Orihime in Hiding
by Renji's Girll
Summary: Orihime hides out in America as a foreign exchange student before the Winter War, chaperoned by Renji. Yeah, you know how well he blends in...
1. Playing House

It was nearly three o'clock by the time Orihime and Renji reached the small town of Brooklyn, Michigan. She smiled at the name.

Michigan. She liked the sound of it.

She liked Ohio, too, but it sounded too much like a greeting. Michigan, on the map, looked like a hand, a friendly hand waving her welcome. She'd told Renji so, but he hadn't been amused. He hadn't been amused by much after the long plane ride.

Plus, he was grumpy because there'd been _issues_ about his tattoos, and hair, before they left Japan. Steps were taken...

The taxi driver looked tiredly to them as he parked and turned in the seat. "Longest fare of my life." His hand was extended to Renji. "A hundred and fifty-three, buddy."

Renji scowled, flipping through his wallet for the money. _American_ money. Bunch of ugly guys, he thought, frowning at the men on the dollar bills. He handed the driver two bills of large denomination and opened the door. He got out and stretched.

Man, that had been a long-ass ride. The muggy air was thick, heavier than what he thought it would be for April. He stepped away for Orihime to get out of the taxi and looked back in the open passenger window. "Get out and help us carry our stuff in."

After a bit of grumbling the taxi driver obliged.

"Oh, I'll take that," Orihime said, reaching for the suitcase the driver took out when he opened the trunk.

Renji moved the hand she extended. "You will not. You're carrying this," he said, handing her the small cosmetic bag she'd brought. "That's all."

The driver gave him a weary look and brought the rest of the luggage out of the trunk. He gave the long thin case holding Renji's sword a curious look. "What the hell you got here?"

Renji snatched it from him. "Golf clubs." He slung it over his shoulder by the strap and took Orihime's suitcases and started for the modest two-story house across the small yard.

"Ooh, we're almost out of town," Orihime said as they made their way up the walk. She paused on the cement porch to look at the bushy pink and yellow flowers running the length of the house front. "So pretty. Look, Renji."

"I see them." He put the bags down to fish the key out of his pocket. Damn jeans, he thought. Not nearly enough room to put anything in. He grinned. Not nearly enough room for _anything_.

The taxi driver dropped the other two suitcases on the porch. "Welcome to ..." He thought for a moment. "Brooklyn."  

"Thank you!" Orihime called as he turned and left back to the taxi. Her elbow nearly cuffed Renji as she waved.

He found the key and unlocked the door. He looked inside and gave the living room a quick glance. No one. He nodded, then turned back to see Orihime crowding him in the doorway. He tried to get out of the way, but the top of her bright reddish-brown head bumped his chin as he straightened, nearly making him bite his tongue.

This was going to be a long assignment.

"I need to look around fist," he said as she stood in the room, smiling at the sparse furnishings.

"Sofa, chair, _love seat_," she said slowly. He looked to her quickly. "That's what a little sofa is called," she said.

He nodded. "Stay here and don't let anyone in."

"Uh-huh." When he disappeared down the small hall at the opposite end of the living room, she turned for a better look. She liked the idea of a love seat, but she'd like it more if it were Ichigo escorting her to America. She sighed. It was necessary for him and Rukia to stay in Soul Society to make preparations for the Winter War. Renji had been chosen to protect her while she hid out.

She smiled. Actually, Rukia had told her that when she'd first been kidnapped by Aizen, Renji had volunteered to come rescue her. It had been a nice gesture, even if it did result in a _much larger_ rescue party.

She sat down in the hunter green upholstered chair, and then tried the coffee brown sofa, smiling. She'd just popped up and plopping into the love seat when Renji came back in the room.

"Comfy furniture," she said, practicing her English, and wishing she could master languages as quickly as a shinigami could. Renji's accent was far less noticeable.

He nodded, rubbing his forehead where the make-up covering his tattoos was starting to itch.

No. Not make-up. Camouflage. That was a more tolerable term. Why couldn't Ikkaku have gotten this assignment instead of him?

"Come on upstairs. You can have the larger bedroom." He grabbed her luggage and nodded to the staircase that was kitty-corner from the living room.

"What color is it?"

He frowned. "I don't remember." He followed her up the staircase, a little distracted by the swish of her hips in the pink and yellow flowered skirt as she ascended. "Yellow, I think."

She turned the corner at the landing on the second floor.

"Keep going," he said, pausing as she did. "Down the hall, right at the bathroom."

"Oh."

She peeked into the first bedroom to her left, nodding at the light teal walls, and continued on to the bathroom at the end of the short hall. She only glimpsed into it, satisfied with the roominess, and the yellow wallpaper with a frilly green fern pattern splayed over it.

"Look at the size of that tub," she said, eyes on the claw footed bathtub by the shower stall.

"Yup." He nodded to the doorway to her right. "Your room, Orihime."

She went in, smiling at the walls painted a dusty rose color. She sighed, eyeing the bed with a matching spread. "This isn't _yellow_, Renji."

"Would you rather have the blue room?" He hoped not.

"No; I'm just saying it's not yellow."

He set her bags down. "Well, get comfortable. Soul Society already had the utilities hooked up, so we've got a phone working here." He watched her sit on the bed and bounce testily, giggling. "I'm checking out the garage. We're supposed to have a car."

"Uh-huh."

He sighed and turned down the hall.

Outside in the small backyard he took a better look around. The houses on either side of the house were nearly identical to theirs.

_Theirs_? Oh, shit, that sounded awful, even in his own mind.

The houses weren't too visible, hidden by mature oak trees and chest high hedges of shakily trimmed greenery. A small round picnic table was centered around an umbrella stand that was devoid of a canopy, and a defunct-looking gas grill was nearby.

He moved on to the garage, which was little more than a large shed, with no poured cement floor. Yup, Soul Society has spent mega-bucks on this set up, he thought. He lifted the manual garage door, hoping there'd be something of a floor inside. There was not.

As the afternoon sun stretched in he realized there was also no car. Where was the mid-size non-descript American model he'd been promised?

The garage was bare. A simple clay dirt floor and three walls. He flicked the light switch at the side of the gaping door opening. Nothing. No power.

Yeah. Welcome to Brooklyn.

When he got to the house Orihime was in the small kitchen, rummaging around in the refrigerator, which Renji was pleased to see was a full-size model. But empty.

"We'll have to do some grocery shopping first," she said, backing away as he opened the refrigerator door wider to investigate.

"We'll have to wait until we get a car."

"There's no car?"

The skepticism in her tone was barely there, but with his mood, Renji assumed she'd be comparing his chaperoning abilities to that dandelion-head she kept pining over. "I'm sure it's just an oversight. If one doesn't show up by tomorrow, I'll contact Soul Society."

"Oh. Okay." She leaned over to look into one cabinet in the lower cupboards, then another.

He looked away from her bent form to the phone on a stand where the kitchen was divided from the living room by a short wall. He picked it up, relived to find there was actually a dial tone. He knew they had to be low-tech on this assignment, but a landline phone was the minimal.

"I'm ordering a pizza, Orihime."

"Oh, good. Could you call me Inoue, so I can get used to it before school Monday?" She pegged her big brown eyes on him.

He nodded, looking around in the phone stand's shelves for a phone book.  He found one, a very thin directory that listed the surrounding towns also. Damn small, he thought.

"What do you want on the pizza?"

**A/N:_ The characters in this story belong to Bleach. I'm just borrowing some of them for a while. Literary license has been taken with the Bleach timeframes for this story, but nothing else should interfere with the storylines._**


	2. New in Town

Leah needlessly straightened the pastry boxes on the counter behind the display case. She was waiting for the last pick-up of the day and it wasn't getting any easier waiting. The shop had been closed for an hour already. They always closed at four, and it was nearly five-thirty. She had another job to get to. Mrs. Simon wasn't paying her well enough to be late. She hated staying over alone. Fridays brought out the weirdoes, even to a cake shop. Sometimes the early drunks shot past the bar two shops over and staggered in.

_Good lord, don't let me get robbed,_ she thought to herself for the fifth time. _Or anything else._

She straightened her burgundy apron bib. Confectioner's sugar was dusted on the front, as usual. She wiped at it, then brushed her dark hair back from her face, refusing to retie her ponytail.

The tinkle of the door's bell made her look up, a smile automatically in place, hoping it was Mrs. Ridge to pick up her three dozen cupcakes. It was not.

"Hello," she said, a little surprised by the man who approached the counter slowly, seeming to grow taller as he neared. She'd never seen such red hair on a man, or such a ponytail of it on man or _woman_. The black head rag he wore made her think of the type the baker wore when he was mixing dough in the back of the shop. She eased the sagging smile back onto her face. Beneath the counter was a baseball bat. Somewhere. "We're actually closed."

Renji frowned, but then quickly grinned at the girl behind the counter. Orihime's age, or a little older, he guessed. "You said to pick up in thirty minutes."

Leah tilted her head in confusion. "Mrs. Simon told me you'd be here over an hour ago."

He looked around at the pastries and cakes in the glass counter between them. Assorted sizes of delicately decorated cakes and confections lined the shelves, iced with chocolate, white, pinks, and creams. The smells were wonderful. "You make all these?"

She smiled a little brighter, a warmth coming to her green eyes as she nodded. "The baker does; I just finish them. You know, frost, decorate, and stuff. But we make all our own icings, and most of our fillings," she added.

He nodded, leaning over the glass, eyes going over the top shelf of the display case. "They're all so perfect," he said.

She beamed. "Those are chocolate with hazelnut-cocoa frosting," she said, pointing at the brown cupcakes he was looking at. "Beside them, to your right, are the vanilla praline."

"They're all for sale?" He looked around. It didn't smell much like pizza in there. Not at all. Maybe American pizza smelled different than it did in Japan.

"Yes. We're closed, but I can still get you something." She couldn't place his accent, which wasn't too pronounced, but still clearly evident. She studied him a little closer, uncertain of what bothered her besides the shocking red hair. The way the head rag fit struck her as odd. Maybe he's scarred, she thought. Or balding. _Why did guys always try to hide baldness?_ she wondered as he examined the contents of the case. Some guys looked better bald. Like that volleyball player on the Olympics team. She frowned as he hovered over the hazelnut cupcakes.

_Couldn't be bald, not with all that red hair sticking out of the back of the ponytail, _she thought_. Probably scarred._

"How much each?" he finally asked, finger jabbing the glass above the rich cupcakes.

"Seventy-five cents apiece," she said, trying to determine his age. She couldn't, but he was definitely fit. _Not muscle-bound like some of those idiots on the football team at school,_ she thought. _More college-age. Leaner, stronger. Probably quick, too._  

He looked up, nodding. "I'll take two."

She halted her drifting thoughts, and followed to where his attention was on the tray in the case. "Hazelnut?"

"Yeah." He looked around the other displays in the small shop as Leah slid open the case and brought out the tray.

"Which two?"

"Oh, whichever." He watched her select two cupcakes and put them in a white paper bag. "This isn't the Pizza Bucket, is it?"

Her face broke into a big smile, laughing a bit, before stopping herself. She folded the top of the bag over twice and ran her fingers along the top to crease it sharply. "Oh, no. That's two stores over."

He sighed. "Figures."

She handed him the bag.

"A dollar fifty, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, Pizza Bucket isn't well-marked if you're walking up on the place. They have no sign hanging over the sidewalk, and they always forget to turn on the _Open_ sign in the daytime. It's hard to see sometimes." _Even so,_ she thought, _everyone in Brooklyn knew where the Pizza Bucket was. _It was a small town, and Pizza Bucket was one of only two pizza places. He handed her a dollar and two quarters. "You new to town, or just passing through?"

"Oh, well, we're thinking about staying a wile." Dammit, Renji_,_ he thought to himself; was that too much information? He looked her over better, returning the timid smile she now wore. _Yeah, like Aizen would really send someone to interrogate a cake shop employee._ If anything, Aizen would be looking into the middle schools. "Things are kind of up in the air."

She nodded. "In that case, welcome."

"Thanks."

He left and Leah watched him from the counter through the window as he went to the pizza shop two stores over. She looked at the clock on the wall shaped like a big chocolate chip cookie, sighing.

Where was Mrs. Ridge?

Renji found the Pizza Bucket two doors down from the shop. He went inside and was immediately greeted by what he recognized as the aroma of pizza, which only made him all the hungrier, and had some pop tune coming over the speakers. It was empty except for a group of five at one booth against the wall. He didn't look at them, but headed straight for the order counter at the back of the building.

"Get a load of this guy," a twenty-something man said from the corner booth.

Renji looked there briefly as a couple of chuckles came from two of the three men. The two women with them were younger, and they averted their stares when Renji passed.

He ignored them as he went to the counter, the men's comments lower now, the uneasy laughter followed by one of the women hissing _'Shut up!'_ to one of them. Orihime was at the house alone, and Renji didn't want to leave her there for too long. He'd already been gone fifteen minutes.

He set the white paper bag from the cake shop on the counter. The guy behind it was high school age, a lax and dazed look on his pimply face. "I'm here to pick up a pizza."

"Name?"

"Renji." Shit, he thought; last name. "Abarai."

The youth's saggy jaw dropped as he pronounced the name slowly. "_Aw-baw-ree_?" He turned to the shelf behind him and looked through the white pizza boxes stacked there, then picked one out. "That's 17.20."

Renji handed him a twenty and took the box.

The youth punched in the amount on the register, pausing over the open drawer as he made change. He looked from the change amount due on the register to the money in the drawer, confusion evident on his face.

"Two-eighty," Renji said impatiently.

"Yeah," he said, shifting from foot to foot, still looking at the money. He finally made the correct change.

_What an idiot,_ Renji thought as he took the change. He collected the box and bag and headed to the exit.

"Maybe it's short for Reginald," he heard a woman from the table say as he left.

He pushed through the door and turned onto the sidewalk. So far he was not impressed with the denizens of Brooklyn. Bunch of idiots.

_Except for that one,_ he thought, pausing at the cake shop window as he reached it. Inside he could see the brunette girl at the counter, an open box of cupcakes on the display case between her and an older portly woman. The round woman nodded as she looked in the box. He saw the younger girl smile at the customer, then close the white box.

He looked up at the name of the shop. The Cake Cottage the pink and burgundy sign read in a fancy scrawl.

Inside the girl and customer were still chatting, and Renji continued on down the sidewalk. He glanced at the shops across the four lane street. A single screen movie theater, an antiques shop, a bar, a cafe, a pharmacy, and a barber shop.

He squinted at the sign on the cafe. Open at eleven, he thought it read. Breakfast was out of the question.

Since there was no car at his disposal yet, maybe he and Orihime could get breakfast at the Cake Cottage. He turned the corner on the sidewalk where the main two streets in Brooklyn intercepted and continued the four block walk home.

_Home_, he thought with a grunt.

Breakfast at the Cake Cottage. He smiled, making a little boy riding a tricycle on the walk ahead of him shy away, turning into an alley.

He'd seen some pretty tasty-looking sweets at the shop. And Orihime would be agreeable for pastries.


	3. Arrivals

Orihime unpacked her two suitcases that afternoon.

Not a uniform in sight. She smiled. No school uniform, and a long summer vacation.

If they stayed that long. No one at Soul Society knew how long she'd be in hiding. The Winter War was approaching quickly, but lines were still being drawn. She and Renji could be in Brooklyn a week, or a month. Who knew?

Aizen knew, she thought.

A chill crept up her spine as she thought back on thoughts she had tried to forget. She'd succeeded at forgetting much; so much, in fact, she couldn't recall what the Society wanted to know when they'd asked her. Numerous times.

She stood in front of the floor length mirror that was anchored to one of the rose colored walls in her new bedroom. She brushed her yellow and pink skirt of wrinkles and committed a slight bow to her reflection.

"Hello. My name is Inoue Moriyama. I'm an exchange student from..." she paused, frowning. Too Japanese. She began again. "Hello," she said precisely. "My name is Inoue Moriyama. I've just arrived ... _Hello_," she said slowly.

She frowned and took a few steps toward the mirror. She put her fingers to her hair where her usual barrettes were now replaced by pinch clips shaped like gold fish in blues and purples. She wasn't the only one who was powerless. Her thoughts grazed over Ishida for a brief moment. Many had given all for Soul Society, and here they were, ready to do battle again.

There were many who thought her kidnapping had been a mere distraction, to draw more shinigami into Aizen's reach.

To draw out the worst, yet the more powerful, aspects of some of them. Like _him_.

"Inoue?" Renji called from downstairs, bringing her thoughts back to the bedroom. She heard the back door close. "Inoue?"

"Here!" she returned, pushing her hair back from her face. "Coming!"

She bounded down the stairs, pleased at the roominess of the house, and met him in the kitchen. "Ooh, pizza."

He set the pizza box and a white bag on the small kitchen table. "Hungry?"

She was already finding plates in the cupboard. "You bet."

Forty miles away a plane was touching down north of Detroit in a makeshift landing strip, nearly two hours from Brooklyn. Not a commercial plane, but a smaller Piper that had been commissioned privately by a voice over the telephone that had paid handsomely for discretion.

A lone figure emerged into the growing evening as the single engine propeller slowed spinning. He looked carefully around at the tiny landing strip, nodding to the pilot, who remained in the plane.

He walked to the line of hickory trees that separated the grassy region that would soon be turned by a tractor to plant soybeans from a field of winter wheat in the next field. After a long moment two rental cars came up the double lane road.

There was an exchange of greetings, and the two drivers got back in one car and left, heading south. The last figure, who had just flown in, got into the second car, and turned northwest.

That night the town of Brooklyn slowly shut down, two of the three traffic lights going to blinking reds at ten o'clock, and the two full-time police officers making their lazy rounds through the back streets to eventually head to eat stale donuts at the empty middle school parking lot.

Renji watched the squad cars head in that direction now from his perch on the house's rooftop. He preferred invisibility, as now, in his shinigami robes, to the confines of human form. He'd watched the town close up, quietness settling over it unlike the larger cities he'd seen. Orihime had gotten to her bubble bath in the claw footed tub earlier, and he could smell the peachy bubble bath soap she'd used.

It was an extremely long bath, he'd noticed, and when he heard a sudden yelp from the bathroom window earlier, he assumed she'd fallen asleep and awoke startled.

He sighed. _Which brought up this_, he thought, looking down at the dangling _Hello Kitty_ lamp pull he held. The little cat was connected to a pink tassel, with a little bell below it, and several beads in assorted pastel colors. Matsumoto's idea.

He looked back up at the night skies, wondering about the dark haired girl he still ached for. He'd discovered too late the extremes of Byakuya's determination to follow orders. When they'd left that night for the Kurosaki household, he never thought Rukia's brother-in-law would resort to such measures.

Surely they'd just bring her back -- where she belonged -- to Soul Society, and reprimand her soundly, and that would be it.

A death sentence? Never. Renji would have bet his life on it.

She shouldn't have gone to the living as a Soul Reaper at all. Not yet. Not alone. She'd been promoted for familial reasons; not on her abilities. She wasn't ready.

If he'd handled things differently that night on the street, if he'd realized then that Ichigo was as determined to protect Rukia as he had been, matters would have taken a different turn. They wouldn't have been at odds for so long.

_Maybe I'd still be the one she turned to first,_ he thought. Playing the role of big brother to Rukia was not what he had in mind. There'd never been a threat like Ichigo before; it had always been just him and Rukia since they were young, taking care of each other. He'd missed his chance before he even knew there was the possibility he could be replaced.

But she'd made her choice, and he was determined to step aside, as a brother would.

He'd heard Orihime practicing her English in the bath tub earlier, her soft voice floating out the open window. Sometimes he thought to prod her a little further, urge her to use her ample feminine wiles to turn Ichigo's head.

It would only hurt Rukia, Renji knew, if Ichigo _did_ look at Orihime in any romantic manner. Hurting Rukia was not what Renji had in mind, despite how much it tore at him to see her with Kurosaki.

He looked down at the communicator he held. He'd already adjusted the frequency to the channel Soul Society had given him, but it was for emergency use only. He wasn't sure a car would be their idea of an emergency.

Orihime pushed the button on the coffee maker the next morning and smiled as it began a mechanical breathing sound. In the carafe, hot water began to drip. The view out the kitchen window of her new home was already drenched in sun, tall reedy green plants bobbing just below the window as they lined the outside wall.

But there was still no car at the garage.

She smoothed her mint green pleated skirt that was decorated with lilac flowers. An American style skirt -- not a uniform. She'd been careful to match the cable knit purple sweater to the flowers when Matsumoto had taken her shopping for the trip.

And to interrogate her, she knew, in the assistant captain's female-friendly way.

She frowned. She still couldn't remember everything about her time with Sôsuke Aizen. She wasn't sure she wanted to. But she did wish everyone at Soul Society would trust her again. Some more than others. Her train of thought went to _him_, where it often stayed lately. She'd prove herself loyal, although it may not matter, not since Rukia had become a permanent fixture in his life. 

She spun around as Renji came into the kitchen, her skirt flaring out as she did. "Good morning," she said brightly. "How was your first night?"

He looked at her tolerantly, grunting. He was already dressed, a t-shirt that read something she didn't want to repeat on the black front, and jeans. No shoes, she noted. She was glad Soul Society hadn't sent Ikkaku with her. There was no way she could excuse a shoe-less escort.

That was, if anyone ever saw her with Renji. She looked to the ring he wore bearing the Society's signet on the middle finger of his left hand. Since he had human form this time, but may also need the powers of a shinigami, alterations had been made.

"How was yours?" he asked, settling into a chair at the table.

"Just fine. The beds are so big here." She found two coffee cups in the overhead cupboard. She was pleased there were some cups, glasses, dishes, and bowls, but there was little silverware, and no chopsticks in the house. 

Renji rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the coffee maker wheezing on the counter. His eyes flicked to Orihime. "You know there're no coffee grinds in there, right?"

"Uh-huh." She took the seat across the table from him. "I thought that if I didn't put coffee in the little basket, but only water, it would make hot water, for tea." She glanced to the coffee maker and back to him. "See?"

He nodded, a little surprised. "Do we have any tea bags?"

Her eyes got bigger, and she giggled sheepishly. "No. Actually, there's no coffee, either."

He sighed. "Oh, well. We'll get some soon." He fingered the head rag that he'd positioned so carefully that morning. _Damn it_. He wasn't wearing the camouflage unless he absolutely had to. _Brooklyn could just get used to tattoos,_ he thought.

Orihime got up and bent to look in the cupboards, which were mostly bare. What she did find was an unopened bottle of ketchup dangerously close to the expiration date and a box of instant hot chocolate packets. She looked to him triumphantly.

"Cocoa!"

He nodded, watching her place the box on the counter and bring the leftover pizza, still in its box, from the refrigerator. He looked around. No microwave.

She placed the box on the table. "Do you want me to fry a few slices?"

_Hell, no,_ he thought. "No. Cold is fine." The thought of Orihime in the kitchen cooking anything was scary. Rukia had told him stories.

"Okay." She brought two plates from the cupboard and set them on the table, and then made the hot chocolate with water from the coffee pot. She placed one cup in front of him. "It's hot."

"Thanks. Inoue."

She sat down with her cup and opened the box. Four pieces left. They both took a piece, tugging as the crust stuck to the box bottom.

He watched her blow on the hot chocolate, and then set it aside. She peeled off a pepperoni from her slice of pizza, and then a mushroom, that broke apart.

"You know what would be good on this?" she asked, eyes on the pizza.

He was afraid to ask. "What?" He bit off half the slice in one bite.

"Raisins." She popped a pepperoni in her mouth.

He made a face, chewing. "Raisins weren't an option."

"They should be. I'll bet they'd sell like hotcakes."

He shrugged. "Nice phrase."

"Why, thank you." She looked to the ring he wore. "If you're wearing the ring, why can I see you, Renji?"

He looked to the ring on his hand. "Left hand is human, right hand is shinigami. You won't see me when it's on the other hand."

"Oh." She nodded, and took a bite of the pizza slice. "You're not going to be at school with me all day, are you?" she asked guardedly.

He shook his head, finishing the slice. "I'll hang around the school perimeter the first week. After that, we'll see." He reached for another piece of pizza. "The Society picked this place because there's absolutely nil energy here. Anyone coming in from anywhere will be easy to detect. There's never been a case of a Hollow showing up here, so that's not going to be an issue, either."

Her gaze went to her hot chocolate. "I don't have any power left, either."

He watched her mope for a moment, knowing her observation by the Society was still underway. "Well, don't worry about it."

She raised her eyes to his, her lips pulled in a pout, her sulking brown eyes giving him pause for a moment.

_Now if she looked at Kurosaki like that,_ he thought, _the guy wouldn't have a chance. _He cleared his throat, looking to his coffee mug. "Don't worry about it, Inoue." He reached in his pocket and found the lamp pull cord. He set it on the table and slid it to her. "That's for your door."

"Oh, _Hello Kitty_," she said, smiling. She took the tasseled cord, turning the plastic kitten and beads over, the bell tinkling. "Like the captain's little bells."

He grinned. _Captain Zaraki would like to have heard that_, he thought, watching her hold the dangle up. "It's for your door --"

"Okay." She cocked her head, admiring the decoration.

"The outside of your door," he finished. "Hang it on the outside and shut the door whenever you're, you know..." He nodded, trying not to focus too pointedly on any part of her body.

Her big brown eyes pegged on him. "When?"

"When you're, uh, changing. Dressing. So I know not to come in." The look of horror that welled up suddenly in her face told him she'd understood. "If I'm going to protect you, Inoue, there may come times I won't be able to knock, and you may not be able to answer. But that doesn't mean I'm not coming in." He nodded to the cord, an uncharacteristic blush coming over him. "That's to rule out mistakes."

"Oh."

"Got it?"

"Uh-huh."


	4. Below the Radar

It was an uncomfortable position, but at the moment neither of them could think of a viable alternative. At least, not one that Renji was going to resort to. Yet.

Camouflage, or make-up, or whatever the hell he was going to call it was not something he wanted to wear on a daily basis.

So Sunday morning Orihime found herself escorted into town with an unseen shinigami. She walked the sidewalk running along the street, the warm sun stretching before her, intermittent with shade from the tall maple trees in some of the residential yards they passed.

She smiled at the old woman sitting on one of the porches, rocking slowly back in forth in a chair, holding a fat orange tabby cat. The woman returned the wave, still stroking the cat.

"I wish I could at least hear you, Renji," she said in a low tone.

So did he. Communication while he was a shinigami was still a problem, but it was one he found less difficult than taking on human form. He walked at her side, eyes alert to any disturbance in the spiritual energy fields that would indicate a presence needing his attention.

There weren't any. Nothing. Brooklyn was a great void of any spiritual pressures at all. The only tweak of anything he got was when they'd saw a funeral in progress at the church two blocks back, and that had only been a whimper of passing.

Orihime crossed the street a block before the main intersection of town, her attention going to the two youths at the fence near an alley. Both teen boys were tall, even for Americans, and straightened their crooked postures when she neared, their eyes following her. She moved to the edge of the sidewalk, away from them as a leer came to the blond one's face. His darker haired friend chuckled, muttering something she didn't hear.

"Woo-hoo, baby," the blond called, tossing his cigarette to the side to give her more attention. "Haven't seen you in school."

Orihime quickened her step, a flicker of a smile on her face. "I haven't started -- Yipe!" She flinched as Renji's hand grabbed her elbow.

"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped before he realized she couldn't hear him. He pushed her on ahead of him as the blond guy fell into step beside them.

"So, you're going to school here?" The blond guy moved a little closer as she withdrew on the sidewalk.

"Uh, well ..."

"I could show you around." His bloodshot eyes fell over her in sneer. "I got _lots_ I could show -- Uhh!"

The blond guy found himself rendered into a heap near the concrete, holding his stomach from a punch he never saw coming, a puff of cigarette smoke emitting as he gasped. He curled into a ball like a caterpillar as Orihime scooted quicker down the walk.

"Thanks, Renji," she breathed, glimpsing back to where the second teen was hovering over his fallen comrade.

"I didn't even see her move, man," he said. "Wicked elbow, eh?"

Renji's grip tightened on Orihime as she lagged. "You can't just talk to anyone, Inoue. You've got to think." He groaned, knowing it was useless trying to convey anything at the moment. He considered ducking down the alley to change forms, but when he saw the little boy on the tricycle with two other children he decided against it. No sense in scarring them for life yet.

They reached the corner of the sidewalk where the intersection crossed and he nudged Orihime to the left. He didn't have to indicate the signs above the stores as they passed. She saw the cakes in the window.

"Ooh, you're right. They do look good. That was the best cupcake I ever had," she said, smiling at thoughts of the cupcakes he'd brought home the day before. "We're going in, right?"

She felt a prod on her shoulder and they went in.

Mrs. Simon looked up from tending the counter in the cake shop, returning the smile of the girl who came through the door. A very well-endowed girl. Mrs. Simon's large form filled out her burgundy apron and pale pink skirt and blouse, and her hands had seen thirty years of cakes and pastries.

"Hello. What can I get you, honey?"

Orihime looked into the first display counter. "Hmm. I'm not sure yet."

Renji stood at one side of the shop where a four foot high wedding cake was on display with a sign reading "_Please do not touch" _on it. Finger marks at the back of the cake showed where some of the white icing had been removed by small fingers. He glanced around the shop, then looked closer at the back room where a long window divided the rooms. Behind it he could see the brunette girl and another man, both working at tables.

He looked to where Orihime was investigating each and every pastry under the counter, and stepped to the back room's doorway. At one table was Leah, leaning over a row of long bare donuts on a tray. Near the window was the baker, a lean man in his mid thirties with powerful arms and wearing a baseball cap.

Renji paused in the doorway, fruity and sweet smells coming from the back room.

"You better not be smelling like onions," Sam said as he rolled out a big ball of dough on the floured table.

Behind him Leah frowned, filling a hopper with Bavarian cream. "I don't smell like onions anymore, Sam." She held the metal bowl over the hopper reservoir and used a spatula to push it in. "Eighteen custard and eighteen cream?"

Sam nodded, rolling a large wooden dowel over the lump of dough until it flattened. "Yup. _Moneybags_."

Renji crossed his arms, watching Leah put the top on the hopper and take a long donut in each hand. The hopper's double jets protruded from the front, above two levers. She inserted a donut end into each jet and pushed the levers simultaneously with the back of her hands, unaware of Renji's presence.

"Hey, I want a car by the end of the summer."

Sam flipped over the dough, glancing up, and then up again, as he saw Orihime moving to another case of pastries out the window. He whistled lowly. "Now, that's a _looker_."

Renji's attention went to Sam, his mind already deciding how many ways the baker could be beaten with the rolling pin.

Leah looked to Orihime momentarily, then switched ends of the donuts and filled the other side with cream. "In your dreams, Sam. In your dreams."

The baker looked back down at his work. "Six hours of cooking this morning and six hours here today? You need a life, girl."

Leah shrugged, placing the filled donuts on another paper-lined tray. "I'll get a life when I get a car. Besides, prep cook really isn't cooking."

"Why don't you just use Brad's car?"

She filled two more donuts. "He took it to college last holiday break. That way he can bring home more dirty laundry," she grumbled.

Renji watched her fill the donuts. She didn't smell like onions to him. More like raspberries. He looked to the jelly-filled powdered donuts sitting on another tray near her. When he looked back to Orihime in the front room she still leaning over the counter. The shop owner was still with her, nodding. Two little boys came in from the street door and began looking into the cases, fingers plastered to the glass, mouths nearly drooling. Renji glanced back to Leah momentarily as she continued filling the donuts, and then he joined Orihime at the counter.

"Well," she was saying, stalling, "I'm not sure what else I want."

He watched the small boys make their rounds, looking into the cases, and then going to the wedding cake on display.

"Cool," one said, eyes gleaming at the icing.

_Old enough to read,_ Renji knew, _about seven or eight years-old._ The second boy nodded, and then dragged a finger across the back of the cake.

Renji smacked the boy's knuckles. He withdrew his hand, shoving the other boy.

"Stop it," he said, reaching for the icing again.

"I didn't do it!" the other boy retaliated.

The first boy put two fingers to the cake, and Renji smacked the back of his hand. This time the boy backed away.

"Forget it," he said, eyes growing large as he looked around. "Come on."

When the boys left the shop, Renji went back to the counter and looked to the box of six donuts Orihime had already picked out.

"What else do I want?" Orihime said aloud, hintingly. "Let me _think_." She looked at the chocolate cake donuts for the third time. "Maybe, maybe a -- Yip!" She smiled quickly, startled when Renji tugged at the back of her hair.

Mrs. Simon looked at her with confusion. "You okay, honey?"

"Yup." Orihime chirped, wishing she could give Renji a dirty look, but instead she felt her hand moving awkwardly of its own accord to the tray of blueberry cake donuts in the case. Her flaccid hand gracelessly made a tap on the glass, followed by feeling two of his fingers pressed into her palm. "Two of the blueberry?"

Mrs. Simon nodded slowly. "You want two blueberry cake donuts?"

"Yes. I think so."

Renji rolled his eyes. They weren't doing _this_ again. Not _this_ way. It was like a demon possessed mime trying to communicate with a blind person. After choosing two more lemon-filled vanilla frosted pastries as if she was working an invisible Ouija board, he decided they had enough donuts.

Orihime looked down as her purse edge to the counter, apparently of its own. She grabbed it hastily, smiling at the shop owner. She sorted through the few contents inside until she found her wallet.

They were back on the sidewalk in two minutes, Orihime carrying the white pastry box. She didn't see Renji look back into the cake shop, his eyes briefly settling on Leah still in finishing donuts.

"Well, _that_ was strange," Orihime said lowly, unsure where he was. "Are you there, Renji?" She felt a hand on her arm and was moved into the alley as they reached it. She shrieked when he suddenly materialized at her side.

Renji took the box as she sidestepped into a garbage can. "Never again, Orihime." One hand went to the black head rag at his forehead, and she gave him a glowering look.  

"It wasn't my idea," she grumbled. From down the alley there was a crash of a tricycle, and the three year-old boy screamed at them. "You're scaring people, Renji."

"Let's go."

They emerged back on the sidewalk as the little boy ran for his backyard.

Leah had heard the scream, but when she looked out the back door of the cake shop, all she saw was little Josh dashing into his yard that backed up to the alley. _Probably got stung by a bee,_ she thought, going back into the shop.

She wiped her hands on the burgundy apron and looked to Sam cutting circles out of the dough he'd rolled on the table. "Just little Josh."

He nodded. "Rose is getting ready to take the order over to the firehouse, so you've got the counter." He glanced at her briefly. "You looked like you rolled in jelly, Leah. Grab another apron."

Leah scowled at him, but did go to the back corner of the shop near the back door where they usually took their breaks. She found a clean apron and exchanged hers for it. When she got back to the work room, Mrs. Simon was already there.

"You've got the counter," the owner told her. "I'm running that order over to the station."

Leah nodded.

The dark blue Ford F150 pick-up parked at the street cautiously, having made two passes through the surrounding blocks of the intersection already. Tôshirô Hitsugaya put the truck into park, and looked at the address written on the paper in his hand. In a town the size of Brooklyn, he thought the address would be easy to find.

Even the town had been hard to find.

He waited for the traffic to clear and got out of the truck and looked up at the shop signs over the sidewalk. He went in.

Leah looked up at the boy who came through the door, smiling, and then suppressing a giggle at the tall spiky mound of silvery hair the boy wore. She watched as he approached the counter with all seriousness, his eyes especially watchful of the shop. She leaned over the counter slightly, smiling.

"Hey, there. Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for an address," Hitsugaya said, pushing the paper with the address across the counter.

_Ooh, so serious,_ she thought, looking at the paper. She read the address, nodding. "This is close." She glanced to the pick-up parked outside the shop at the street, but didn't see a driver. _A walker_, she decided. "You go right at the light up here, and this address should be about four or five blocks, on your right."

Hitsugaya took the paper she handed back. "Thanks."

"Anything else?"

He looked around the shop without interest. "No. Thank you."

_So formal_, Leah thought as he left. To her surprise she saw him get into the blue truck at the curb, and drive off. She got to the front window in time to see him make a right turn at the light, according to her directions.

_Well, someone was out for a joyride,_ she thought, _cute kid;_ unaware she was looking at the captain of the Tenth Division of Soul Society.

Orihime had almost finished a lemon-filled donut by the time Renji had eaten two of the pastries. They'd only been back home for ten minutes -- after their trip to town -- and they were already looking through the small phone book for restaurant options. They were tentatively thinking about the Manic Groove for lunch, the back entrance which they'd seen down an opposite alley on the way home after Josh had went crying for his mother.

"Specializing in American cuisine for family and friends," Orihime read from the restaurant listings, one whole page from the telephone directory as they sat in the kitchen.

Renji swallowed the last of the second donut, watching her lick the lemon pudding from the donut.

She nodded. "What do you think of that place for lunch?"

His attention went to the back door as sounds of a car in the driveway reached him. "Stay here," he said, getting up and going outside.

By the time he reached the driveway, Hitsugaya was stepping down from the truck. Renji was surprised to see him, and made a slight bow, conscious of the neighbor mowing the grass over the nearest hedge.

"Captain Hitsugaya."

"Yeah, well, stop with the formalities, Renji." Hitsugaya threw a look at the noise of the lawn mower over the tall greenery. "I'm just checking in on you two and dropping off your transportation."

Renji looked to the truck, nodding. "Not a car."

Hitsugaya shrugged. "Soul Society thinks everyone in American drives trucks, so, here it is." He twisted the ring on his left finger, still an alien feeling to him. He glanced at the house. "Everything going okay?"

Renji nodded. "Come on in."

Orihime immediately popped up from her seat at the table when they entered the kitchen. "Captain Hitsugaya," she said with a bow.

"Are you all settled in, Orihime?" he asked as Renji pulled the back door shut.

"Hai -- Yes, thank you." She caught herself from bowing again "I deeply appreciate the Soul Society's protection and interest in my welfare." She bit her lower lip at her last statement, eyes going to the shorter figure.

"You know we still have questions about your time with Aizen," Hitsugaya said.

She nodded. "I will do my best to answer."

Hitsugaya nodded, and then Orihime's hostess traits kicked in.

"We have donuts and hot cocoa," she said in her best English. "Would you like some?"

Hitsugaya shook his head, but sat down at the table, followed by Orihime and Renji.

"Have you started school yet?" he asked her.

"No. Tomorrow," she said.

Hitsugaya looked to Renji and tossed the truck keys across the table to him. "Any problems?"

"None."

"What about Homeland Security?"

Renji tried not to laugh. "It's a joke."

Hitsugaya nodded. "That's what I thought." He looked to Orihime for a moment. "We have a few Society issues," he said leadingly.

She leaned forward on the table. "Anything I can tell you, I will."

"Uh, yeah, well, this is a different matter." Hitsugaya returned her attention for a moment, before she sat up straighter.

"Oh. I see." She laughed a little, glancing to Renji. "I'll pick out clothes for tomorrow, for school." She jumped up from the table and bowed twice to them, and then dashed up the stairs down the hall.

Hitsugaya looked to Renji, who shrugged.

"Now," Hitsugaya said, "what's she been like?"

Renji shook his head. "Nothing different. She's acted no differently than how I've always seen her." The next words left a foul taste in his mouth. "I'm not the expert on Orihime Inoue. Kurosaki would know much more than I."

Hitsugaya nodded. "She's still powerless?"

"As far as I can tell, yes." He sighed. "She'd do anything to help Soul Society, in my opinion."

Hitsugaya looked around the kitchen for a moment. "Do you two have everything you need?"

Renji nodded. "So far, no problem. Any changes in Soul Society?"

This time Hitsugaya nodded. "The damage by Aizen is much deeper than we first expected. There was an attempted abduction of Karin Kurosaki."

"Ichigo's little sister?" Renji asked, truly surprised.

Hitsugaya's eyes flicked to the hall. "Soul Society has moved her and Yuzu to a hidden location, like Orihime, and there may be more we'll have to move, such as Tatsuki Arisawa. Uryû Ishida has also disappeared."

"Abducted?" Renji asked, frowning.

"We're not sure yet. But precautions are being taken. You're being advised not to take shinigami form unless necessary. Any spiritual pressure registering here will show up, since there's nothing around to cloud it."

"About Karin Kurosaki," Renji said slowly, "who was sent? Gin?"

Hitsugaya shook his head. "Aizen is using humans this time. We can't detect them, and it's impossible to determine who is suspect. Everyone is a prospect."

"Bounts?"

"We don't think so."

Renji sat back in the chair. Hitsugaya nodded.

"He's recruiting humans, and so far, whatever alterations he's making in them, if any, have been imperceptible," Hitsugaya said.

"Just mercenaries?"

"Looks like it." Hitsugaya stood up. "You're below the spiritual radar, Abarai. Stay there."


	5. Pineapple

Thirty minutes after Hitsugaya left, Renji and Orihime decided it was time to grocery shop. They'd already seen a supermarket listing in the phone directory -- _Fresh, Food, Ideas, Your Local Busch's Store_ -- the page of advertising had read, displaying a pineapple beside the slogan, and according to the handy map of Brooklyn provided in the front of the directory, Busch's was close.

But it still required driving.

Orihime pulled her door shut as soon as she got into the passenger seat, leaving Renji standing outside to look at her despairingly.

She stared back at him until he went around the truck and got in behind the steering wheel.

"You're supposed to wait until I shut the door for you," he said, taking a moment to fit the key in the ignition.

"Oh. Why?" she asked.

He jammed the key into the column again. "I'm not sure. That's how I've always seen it done in the television shows."

"Not everything on television is real, Renji," she said kindly. She could think of several items advertised on the small set they'd watched over the course of the day in the living room that had been theoretically flawed.

"I know that." He turned the key and the engine started. The directions to the supermarket were simple; left, left, right. He shifted the truck into reverse, and put one arm on the back of the bench seat, looking behind them.

Backing out of the driveway onto Brooklyn-Pierport road took a few moments, but two minutes later they were making the turn at the intersection in town. Driving wasn't something Renji had done much -- in any part of the living world -- but Ikkaku had been full of advice before he'd left for this assignment. _Of course, Ikkaku was generally full of other stuff too,_ Renji thought, _so how good the advice could be was anyone's guess._

"Ooh, there's the pastry shop," Orihime said as they made the turn at the traffic light, nearly clipping his hat as she pointed to the Cake Cottage.

"Yeah," he said, moving her hand so he could see the lane he was pulling into. The hat was distracting enough; he didn't need her hauling herself halfway across the cab to point out donuts. Plus, every time he turned his head the baseball cap's bill caught on the window. He took a moment to look at the little buttons on the door, flipping a few testily. Finally the window zipped down a few inches.

"Mine, too," Orihime said, smiling and fingering the buttons at her own door.

He kept his eyes on the sparse traffic ahead of them. "Did you bring the list?"

"Uh-huh." She patted her small patchwork leather purse. "You know, in the tips book Rukia lent me, it says you're not supposed to shop for groceries when you're hungry. Are you hungry, Renji?"

He nodded. Between the two of them, when wouldn't one of them be hungry? "Not all of the stuff in there applies to every situation," he said, referring to the manual Rukia had insisted was necessary study for Orihime in America. Like the phrase _'Selling like hotcakes'_ she'd used at what had passed for breakfast that morning. "You're a foreign exchange student, Inoue. You're not supposed to fit in."

"Oh, but I want to," she said softly.

The supermarket came up on their right, and he slowed the truck for the turn, bumping the hat bill on the rear view mirror.

"Damn thing," he muttered, tempted to take the hat off.

"I think it looks good on you," she said as he glared at the parking lot sprinkled with cars. "What is that on it?"

Renji had inspected the cap Hitsugaya had left for him in detail, but he still wasn't sure. It was a black hat, with a serious-looking man embroidered on the front. A sports team, Hitsugaya had guessed. "It's a Blackhawk."

"Oh."

He saw her hold her breath as he parked at the far end of the lot.

"What's that?"

He shifted the truck into park. "I'm not sure. A bird, I guess." But that didn't explain the pissed-off guy with the feathers in his hair on the patch.

Beside the grocery store was a smaller store called Happy Dollar, with a big friendly dancing dollar sign in green. The entryway to the Busch's supermarket was crowned with an art deco pineapple standing six feet tall in shades of brown. For a moment they stood looking at it until a car waited for them to move out of the crosswalk.

"Why is it called Busch's instead of pineapple?" Orihime wondered as they made their way inside.

Renji didn't have an answer.

They found a cart in the entryway and headed into the bright building where a catchy tune neither of them recognized was playing**.** The cart they chose tried to go in a direction they didn't want it to, and the faster Orihime pushed it, the more the front left wheel veered into things. Like stacks of precariously balanced cereals and glass jars of mayonnaise.

"I'm not going back for another," Renji told her as he commandeered the cart. "I'll push it."

She smiled, eyes going over the mountains of food items. "Okay." She pulled the list they'd made out of her purse.

He looked around the moderately sized store. It wasn't very busy, just a few guys wheeling out a load of cases of beer and a few young girls with fancy bottles of juices and bubblegum. They gave Renji a wide berth.

He tried to look over Orihime's shoulder, ever mindful of her lethal forehead, and decided her loopy hiragana was too fancy to read.

"What are we getting?" he asked with a sigh, returning a stare to an older pudgy woman who had stopped to stare at him.

For a moment the woman was motionless, and then she shook her head and went her way.

Orihime consulted her list. "Daikon, kabu, kabocha, hakusai, soba, fish of any sort -- I heard it would be harder to find good fish here, Renji -- natto -- but I think that's in the prepared dish aisle -- any kind of mushrumps we can find, kitchen, and sweet bean paste."

He leaned closer, and she moved back an inch, sizing up the bill of the baseball cap. "_Mushrumps_? Mushrooms, Inoue. And it's _chicken_, not kitchen."

She giggled, a hand going to her mouth. "Okay. Ooh, look, vegetables." She pointed to the end of the store. And it had actually sounded more like _bejetabudesu_, but he knew what she meant. He nodded and wheeled the wobbly cart to the produce section of the sore.

It was a lost cause from there on. Little in the vegetable section looked familiar, save the Chinese cabbage, the bulbous mushrooms, the spring onions, a few of the squash, and some of the fruit, which Orihime insisted were mis-marked. In all, it was a pathetic array of small, wimpy vegetables.

It took twenty minutes to wade through the produce section, and five minutes of bickering over the names of everything, and then they headed for the meat's service counter.

Which Renji thought was an odd name for the surely-looking fledgling butcher behind the glass case. Everywhere they looked were piles of red meat, with only one small case devoted to fish. His eyes went over the dry, blanched-looking fish that appeared long-dead.

"We're going to starve to death here," he muttered, and then signaled the lanky butcher. "How old is this shit?"

"Renji," Orihime hissed with a poke to his arm.

"I want to know." He leaned across the counter, staring down the butcher who looked too young to have a knife. "Is this fish fresh?"

The butcher looked over the case, and then back to Renji. "Think so."

"Is this all?"

"There's frozen in aisle fourteen."

Renji leaned back from the counter, his gaze settling on Orihime, who had grown oddly quiet. _Hell, if she was going to be cooking, and if this was their food source, it was going to be a hell of a long ...What was it? Week? Month? Summer?_

_Dammit,_ he thought, _not the whole summer._ Not in a human body and living off whatever she was going to pass off as food.

Despite its half-dehydrated appearance, and with extensive hand-to-case jabbing, he selected what was eventually translated as a pound of yellow fin tuna and two pounds of salmon. At least the colors were okay, he thought, watching the tuna steaks and slabs of salmon being wrapped.

"We could eat kitchen," Orihime suggested, a smile tempted the corners of her mouth hopefully. She pointed down the wall of the store where refrigerated cases housed assorted packaged meats.

He nodded, giving up on the linguistics for the moment. "We're going to have to."

The rest of the store was as bad or worse, but neither of them cared, more interested in trying to put enough resources in the cart to see them a few days through. It took ten minutes to pass the check-out register, and Renji was relieved there were no problems with the bank card Soul Society had provided.

When they got home -- how that word made Renji homesick -- he sat at the kitchen table as Orihime unpacked their six bags of groceries. It was nearly sunset. She chatted blithely about the trip to town, stacking assorted strange looking boxes and cans on the counter they were to call food.

"Are you hungry?" she asked,

He looked up from the small wooden case Hitsugaya had left for them. "No."

"Really?"

"Not yet," he said, trying to delay the inevitable.

She nodded, setting the produce to one side on the counter.

He looked at the contents of the box. One watch, one bracelet, one gold chain with a key at the end. He took the watch. It was a handsome specimen, leather band, large dial, black, soft and comfortable. He turned it over to see the _'live wire',_ Hitsugaya had called it. The back of the watch was equipped with a metal circle, meant to run off body temperature. _His_ body temperature, to be exact.

He took out the silver halves of a blue bangle next. They were of a similar metal, except detailed with ornate scrollwork entangling over them, and set with a medium blue stone in one half.

Orihime's birthstone of sapphire, he'd been told.      

"Come over here," he said as she finished putting the cold groceries in the refrigerator. "We'll get these set."

She nodded and settled into a chair at the table. "Ooh, pretty."

"Yeah." He took the gold chain and used the small key to fit into the end of the bangle, but snuggly, and clicked open the lock. "Reach over your left arm."

A fleeting look of hesitation crossed her soft brown eyes, but she held her wrist to him. He connected the bangle halves by one side with the key, locking it. He next closed the second side, the click of the lock securing the bangle on her wrist.

"It's pretty," she said.

"It's just a precaution," he said, buckling on the watch to his own left wrist. "In case we get separated. There's a twenty-five-hundred foot range, nearly half a mile. If you go beyond that, I'll know."

She smiled, her fingers going over the silver metal testily. "And then?"

Her face had softened, more so than he'd seen it since a certain _somebody_ had rescued her. _Damn strawberry_, he thought. _Duty was fine, but... sometimes there was more_. "I'll find you. Got it?"

She nodded.

He hung the chain with the key around his neck, watching her lips purse at whatever thoughts were coursing through her head.

He already felt the draw at his wrist from the watch, a small pull. He cleared his throat, waiting for her to dismiss the hurt in her eyes. With all her attributes, he didn't know why she hadn't attracted a certain Y chromosome. Actually, one of two that he knew were prone to her affections.

He sat back, estimating her as she looked at the bracelet. "I guess I could eat."

Earlier that day, the figure had studied the photo of the girl he held, waiting for his lunch in a small diner that had sprung up on his way southwestward. The waitress had left coffee, and his order of some sloppy special-of-the-day was being prepared by the frazzled cook behind the counter.

Young, about fifteen, he'd been told, with deep auburn hair, and soulful brown eyes verging on gray at times. It was a school photo he held, so her smile was timorous, her school uniform spotless, her hair held by barrettes to one side of her head. _Oh, and she'd smelled like sunflowers,_ he'd been told.

Orihime Inoue. He wondered why she was of such interest to the man known simply as his Employer. Of course, she was a delicate, innocent looking thing, buxom lass, but there had to be more than that for a man to commission such a bounty. He wasn't the only hired hand for this venture. But he knew he was the best.

His Employer was another matter. A simple, unassuming man with thick framed glasses and medium brown hair who looked to be anyone and everyone's brother and father. His mannerisms were benevolent, masking the nearly unthinkable of asking to task what was a herd of mercenaries.

_'And she smells like sunflowers, sometimes,'_ his Employer had said. And he didn't want her hurt. There was too much invested in her.

"Thank you," he said as the waitress set his plate of something on the table.

The girl wouldn't be alone. His Employer was quite sure she'd be chaperoned by one or more individuals.

He drank the coffee he took black and glanced with disinterest at the plate of meat and potatoes slathered in dark gravy.

He had been provided with no photo of most prospects that'd be chaperoning the girl. He had descriptions. He had memorized the physical descriptions, and of them all the tall female with strawberry blonde hair was the most enticing. _"The epitome of womanly pulchritude,"_ the strange white-haired man with the disturbing permanent grin had said when he'd met with the Employer. She'd been described as having an inordinately large bosom, and a mole on the side of her lip, at which mention the man with the eerie grin had nearly drooled.

There were others, too. One could be a much slighter girl with dark hair, and while deadly, was in a weakened state and probably would not be present.

The man sampled the meal before him and found it nearly palatable. His mind mulled over the rest of the potential bodyguards. Most notably were the bald man and the red haired man. These his Employer had described as tenacious, dangerous, and more persistent than either of the women. The odd physical features had struck the man as odd -- shocking red hair and tattoos on one, a sleek bald head and the tendency to remain barefooted for the other -- gave him an instant image in the absence of actual photos.

All of these, his Employer had insisted, were currently human, but far more powerful than any human he'd ever encountered.

Which set the man's guard on edge. _Were currently human?_ What else could they be?  

Two others were potential chaperones to the girl, and would be actual humans, but had proved themselves highly skilled.

He looked at the photos of these two prospects. Even after all his hours of study, the man couldn't determine why these two youths --merely teens -- would be considered dangerous. The first was an orange-haired boy of about sixteen years, with a determined countenance and extraordinary abilities with a sword.

A _sword?_ At this the man knew the mission would be unlike any other he'd undertaken.

The second was also a teen, of similar age, but of less bulk in stature, with dark hair, and studious eyes shielded by glasses. He was well-known as an archer.

The man pushed back his plate and studied the photos in detail. Of the six prospective bodyguards, these were the only two real humans. The rest were of a temporary status.

Temporary status.

It was those words that made Karl Rybak know he was getting involved in something beyond his capabilities. But that had never made him turn down money before.


	6. New Girl

The early sun stretched across the wooden floor of the rose colored room, bringing with it the sounds of robins from the window. Orihime stood at the full length mirror at one wall, appraising her appearance.

Not exactly American, but definitely not Japanese school uniform, either. She straightened the eyelet color of the mild yellow sweater. It was a short sleeved sweater, but maybe too warm for the day. She looked at the window where the sun was inching higher in the sky. She'd decided on a pair of cropped jeans and Mary Janes, which Matsumoto had told her was all she needed. No gym class clothes beneath her uniform; this wasn't Japan.

Which was partly why Orihime had decided against a skirt. She turned, looking at her outfit from behind, then touched the spot at the nape of her neck. Beneath the mane of reddish-brown hair was the tender area, no larger than a, well, a dime.

She wasn't sure why it was a bit irritated. Maybe she hadn't rinsed all the conditioner out of her hair one day. She hadn't gotten a good look at it, because there was no hand-held mirror in the bathroom. Renji had promised they'd go to the Happy Dollar soon, which served as Brooklyn's quick-pick store in absence of a department store.

Her first day of American school. She wished there would be a friendly face to meet her. Or at least one to go with her. Renji was escorting her there, but he wasn't staying.

She turned to face the mirror, tucking a strand of hair flatter into her navy headband behind her ear. Besides, Renji's presence _anywhere_ wasn't exactly an affable situation. Bodyguard, hell yes, she thought, but he was about as sociable as a chainsaw sometimes.

She bounded into the kitchen five minutes later to find him already at the coffee pot, eking out the last of the coffee. "Good morning!"

He turned, leaning against the counter, the coffee mug tight in his hand. "Morning. You look nice."

"Thank you." She met him at the counter and looked into the mug of coffee with the cat face on it -- one of the few non-food items they'd gotten at Busch's. "You saved me a cup. Thanks."

"Yeah, well, I would've saved more, but I've been up for a while."

She added a spoonful of the powdered creamer to the cup, relieved the coffee was still hot enough to dissolve it, and stirred. Maybe tomorrow they'd attempt tea again.

"Did you eat?"

He nodded, intent on his fifth cup of coffee. "Yup. There's cereal and waffles."

She made a face at the selections. He chuckled.

"That's what they eat here, Inoue."

She groaned. "But do _we_ have to?"

He shrugged, looking over her sweater. "We've got to give at least a pretense of normality." He cleared has throat. "It's a little warm for a sweater. Have you got something on underneath it?"

Her cheeks tinted pink and she looked to him quickly.

"Hell, I meant another ... Like a..." He shook his head, sighing. "I just meant it might get warm today. That's all."

"Oh. Oh." She giggled nervously. "Of course." She put the spoon in the sink and went to the cupboard to look for cereal. "Is anyone else coming this week?"

It took him a moment to realize what she was talking about. "No. Not until next week at least. Maybe not even then, seeing as Captain Hitsugaya was just here. Soul Society is trying to limit contact."

She found a box of cereal and brought out a bowl. "I'm sorry you got stuck with a human body, Renji." She sighed, thinking how odd it was to call him that. It had taken the whole plane trip to sink in. "I know you don't like it."

He finished his coffee. "It's just so limiting. Confining."

She nodded, pouring herself a bowl of cereal, fingering the sore spot beneath her hair at the nape of her neck.

He watched her fingers move beneath her hair. "Sleep wrong?"

Her hand dropped. "No. It's nothing." She put the cereal box away and opened the drawer to get a spoon.

He sat down at the table as she took a seat with her bowl and coffee. "Do you remember your history?"

"Hai."

"English."

"Yup."

For a moment she just ate the cereal, dry, and he waited. When he realized she wasn't going to expound, he nodded. "Let's hear it."

She took a drink of the coffee and sat straighter. "My name is Inoue Moriyama, from Osaka, Japan, and I'm a foreign exchange student from United Youth Exchange Programs. I'm transferring from a host family in Akron, Ohio, due to a family emergency." She smiled. "Is that right?"

He nodded. "Very good." He sat back in the chair, one hand rubbing over his head rag, which he'd opted for despite the baseball cap. He saw her look at it. "What?"

"Is that all you're wearing to school?"

He held his arms out, displaying the black graphic t-shirt. "This is it, Orihime. I'm not slathering on that cream shit everyday to walk half a mile for a bunch --"

"Okay, I get it." She took a bite of the cereal.

He lowered his hands, one resting on the table edge as she ate, fingers drumming. "I think you're supposed to put milk in that."

She made a disagreeable face.

He grinned. "Yeah."  

Brooklyn High School was a single level building of nearly five hundred students in four grades. They milled around the circular drive where the buses were emptying at the front entrance at the school, a buzz of girls squealing and laughing and of boys changing tones from boy to man. It made Renji's skin crawl.

Orihime stood at his side, her fingers clutching her binder, her hunter green book bag over her shoulder. She stood still, her eyes going over the horde of students hurrying and walking in clumps toward the building in the morning sun's warming spread.

Already a widening circle of emptiness had formed around them, and Orihime was wondering if Renji's sphere of _influence_ was going to drive away everyone. Some of the younger students were staring at them until they walked into each other. A few clusters of older grades were standing around, challenges exchanging among the tougher guys. Renji's attention settled on a few of them.

He looked to Orihime. "Do you have your schedule?"

"Hai. Oops. Yes, Renji."

"Don't be too friendly. Don't get too chatty with these moron human guys. They don't have to know everything about you."

"Uh-huh." She watched him survey the students and few of the school faculty swarming the school yard, knowing if there was anything amiss, he'd find it. "You're not bringing the sword with us?"

He grimaced at the mention of the katana. It wasn't a bad sword, but it was no zanpaku-tô, and certainly not his zabimaru. "No edged weapons or firearms on school property. That was in the school's handbook."

"Oh," she said, a brief flicker of worry crossing her eyes. She looked to his ring and breathed a sigh of relief. "But you can still change, right?"

He nodded. "If need be, but Captain Hitsugaya said to remain in human form, and only change as a last resort, and for no more than fifteen minutes."

A bell rang inside the school.

She smiled and looked to him. "See you after school."

He pointed to a cluster of trees across the school street where parents were dropping off students. "I'll be there. _Ganbare_."

"Hai!" she said with a quick salute, and turned on the sidewalk.

Renji watched her joining the throng of students moving in shifts into the school's double doors, her slender form dissolving into the mass of bodies in a moment, until only the back of her hair was to be seen.

He glanced back to the group of guys hanging back near a cross path in the sidewalk, returning their collective attention.

His hands itched for the hilt of a sword.

Orihime looked at her class schedule, then glanced to the bottom of the paper where her locker number and combination were written in Japanese. That had been Matsumoto's idea.

"Seven-ninety-six," she said to herself, her eyes going over the lockers lining the main hall as student bodies brushed and bumped into her as they hurried past. The hall was loud and vulgar, and slobberingly affectionate in spots. She looked with horror at one boy and girl pushed up against a locker near a classroom doorway, hands and heads pressed up to each other tightly.

Orihime's cheek's colored and she hastened on down the hall. There were rules against that kind of _stuff_. She knew it. Renji had read the handbook to her over the weekend.

After a moment she found a second hall, and eventually, her locker. She hitched her bag higher over one shoulder, feeling lost in the taller population of students. She twisted the locker combination. After a few exasperated tries, she pulled on the latch and it opened.

She smiled.

She carefully hung her book bag on the hook inside and set her binder on the small shelf. She looked to her schedule. Geometry. As lovely as the word sounded in English, she hadn't any idea where the classroom was. She turned the paper over to see the line drawn map. She was still studying it when the locker next to her banged open, slamming the door of hers.

"Hey. Whoa," a deep voice said as a tall dark haired boy looked down at her, grinning immediately as he saw her. "Hi, there."

"Hi," she returned, smiling only a little, recalling Renji's words from earlier.

He crowded closer. "You're new here?"

She nodded, pulling her schedule to her chin as he leaned down.

"I could show you around."

Her spine bristled. The last time she'd heard words similar to those...

"Back off, Scott."

Orihime looked past the boy to a girl who was closing her locker on the other side of his.

"Just trying to help her out." Scott shut his locker, giving Orihime a quick smile -- at her chest -- before leaving down the hall.

"Hi, I'm Leah," the brunette girl said, extending a hand to Orihime. "New here?"

"Yup." Orihime shook her hand. "Today."

Leah looked to her schedule Orihime had lowered. "Do you know where you're going?"

Orihime lifted one shoulder, looking to the nearest classroom. "No."

Leah stepped closer, eyes on the schedule. "What do you have first hour?"

Orihime showed her the paper. "Geometry. Mrs. Coffey." She looked again at the name. She hadn't said the name out loud before. "_Coffee_?"

Leah chuckled. "Yeah, just like it sounds. That's farther down this hall, on your left. Fourth door."

"Ari-- Thank you."

Leah nodded as the bell rang. "That's the five minute bell. You've got five minutes to get to your next class." She looked Orihime over for a moment. "This is your first day?"

Orihime nodded. "Yes."

"Well, you'll want to watch out for Scott. He's kind of grabby."

Orihime frowned, and Leah shrugged.

"Just keep the locker door between you and him, and under no circumstance answer the question_ 'Can I show you something?'_ with a _yes_. You'll be okay."

 Orihime nodded slowly, then made a slight bow. "I'm Inoue Moriyama, exchange student."

"Oh? Kind of late in the year for that," Leah said. "Well, I'm going the other way, so good luck."

"Thank you!" Orihime called as Leah headed down the opposite side of the hall.

The view from the top of the high school was unspectacular. Renji hadn't expected anything fascinating, but the sheer dullness of chimneys and vent stacks, coupled with uneven tar and shingle patch jobs, and assorted balls, brought to a new light the jarring reality that this was how he was going to be spending his days while Orihime was in class

Hell, the un-magnificence of the spring was daunting. Maybe a Hollow would show up, and break what promised to be utter tedium.

He'd accessed the rooftop by a series of palates stacked near the cafeteria delivery door, where the stench of has-been provisions had made him pause before he realized it was _food_. Orihime would definably be bringing her lunch from home after all. There was no way he was going to subject her to eating whatever produced that smell.

He squatted near one of the stouter looking chimneys and leaned back in the growing sunshine. A sweltering day was promised, according the giddy-sounding weatherman on the kitchen radio earlier that morning. He looked to his watch. Eight-thirty-five.

The high school had an open campus policy for lunch. Maybe he could pick a fight with one of those bigger males with the matching varsity jackets he'd seen that morning. Lift some of the boredom.

It wouldn't be anti-social; just a break in the monotony he was being promised.

Renji sighed, wondering how many fingers he'd be willing to cut off his hand to trade places with Ikkaku for this assignment.


	7. ThirtyFive

Orihime spent the fifty minute geometry class sitting erect in the third seat in the second row, her attention rapt on Mrs. Coffey's diagrams on the white board at the front of the room.

But something was wrong. As much as she tried, as much as she focused, Orihime just couldn't follow the series of angles and lines. It wasn't a headache, and it wasn't entirely the language barrier; some other block. As if the synapses in her brain were shutting down, being replaced with a void. She unconsciously fingered the navy headband in her hair. Maybe it was too tight.

At least Mrs. Coffey hadn't made her give much of an explanation. A brief introduction was all that had been asked of her.

When the dismissal bell sounded and class broke, the other students headed noisily for the door. Orihime just sat in her desk, and then realized she too was to leave. The teacher wasn't coming to her. She had to switch classrooms.

She'd barely gotten into the hall when a large girl bumped into her, gave her an annoyed look, and moved on.

"I'm sorry," Orihime called after her, but the girl didn't acknowledge her. "Sorry!"

A couple of taller boys shoved past her, then turned to look at her with appreciative leers before continuing on their way through the crowded hall.

Orihime quickly stood to one side of the hall, against a row of lockers, her schedule clutched in her hand. She looked at it and frowned over the next class name on her list, sounding the words out carefully.

"Hey, can you move it?" a girl asked, standing behind her.

Orihime looked to her. "Yes."

The thin blonde girl crossed her bony arms. "Then move it. That's my locker."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

The girl elbowed her way to the locker, knocking Orihime in the chest.

"Shit, what's up with the padding?"

Orihime frowned, slowly contemplating the remark.

The girl opened her locker and fumbled through it.

Orihime looked up as a hand tugged at her sleeve. She turned to see Leah. "Hi."

"Hi. We've got Home Ec next. Come on." Leah shot the skinny girl a dark look.

Orihime let herself be led through the bustling hall, Leah's hand moving to her arm. "I'm not stalking you; I saw your next class on your schedule earlier."

"Oh. What is Home Ec?"

Leah lifted an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

Orihime dodged a couple of boys scuffling beside the water fountain as they passed. "Not exactly."

"Yeah, classes are full; they probably put you wherever they had an opening." Leah turned them down a secondary hall past the science labs. "Why are you starting so late? I mean, it's second week of the fourth quarter."

Orihime nodded, ready with her practiced answer. "My first host family had an emergency, and I was transferred here."

"Wow, really?" Leah shook her head. "That's too bad for you. Were they nice?"

"Oh, yes."

Leah pushed through the double set of doors that led to the electives lab rooms. "How about now? Do you like your new family?"

At first Orihime didn't answer, until she realized what Leah was asking. "Oh, yes. They're a nice family."

"That's good. Do they have kids here? In school?"

"Oh, no."

Leah opened the door to the kitchens. "Well, this is it. You're lucky we're done with theory. Now we get to cook."

"Oh, good," Orihime murmured as they entered the room.

Mrs. Brooks turned to look at them as they came in, her plump face breaking into an even plumper smile. "Well, Inoue Moriyama, is it?" she mispronounced.

Orihime nodded, bowing slightly.

Mrs. Brooks returned an even deeper bow. "Ee-No-Ooh-Way," she said phonetically, slowly. "That's pretty."

Orihime nodded without correcting.

"I'm Mrs. Brooks. You've met Leah. You can join her and Meg in kitchen four."

Leah nodded. "I'll show you where."

Orihime followed the other girl to the segment of kitchen, past three other units, that consisted of a sink, stove, and island counter.

"The pantry and coolers are over there," Leah said, pointing to the two large stainless steel refrigerators and a set of louvered doors. "Whatever you do, don't get caught alone in the pantry with Marc." She nodded to a short thin boy with red hair loitering in kitchen one with two plump girls. "He's something of a creep."

Orihime nodded, eyeing the redhead that was angling closer to one of the girls in the kitchen, until she shoved him away, and being slighter, he tumbled into the kitchen island counter.

"This is Meg," Leah was saying as they met a blonde girl already leaning on kitchen four's counter. "Meg, this is Inoue. She's an exchange student from Japan."

"Really? Great." Meg extended a brisk hand and smiled.  

Orihime shook the girl's hand as the class bell rang.

"Just put your stuff over there," Leah said, indicating a row of shelves with other books on them at the outer wall. Orihime did this and when she got back to the kitchen Mrs. Brooks was making her rounds.

"Well, Inoue, in our kitchen we take one day to create our menus, and another day for execution and presentation." She smiled. "Leah and Meg can bring you up to speed on this week's assignment. Of course, our dishes may be very different than what you're used to."

"Thank you," Orihime said automatically, wishing she could think of something more appropriate.

The teacher turned to Meg and Leah. "What's your dish and approach?"

Leah pulled a note card out of her pocket and unfolded it. "We're doing chicken divan with eight ingredients."

"In thirty minutes?" Mrs. Brooks asked skeptically.

Meg hedged a little. "Including cooking time, it's forty-five."

The teacher nodded. "Anything longer than forty-five minutes total will affect your grade."

Leah and Meg exchanged looks.

"Ten minutes prep, thirty-five minutes cooking," Meg said.

"Sounds good." Mrs. Brooks left then, and Meg and Leah sighed.

Meg tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked to Orihime. "We're doing simplified dishes of classic family standards. Kind of thirty-minute dishes, but it'll take us two days, for class time."

Orihime smiled. Now _this_ was something she could use.

From there Orihime's day went a little smoother. They spent the class period cutting up chicken and cooking it for preparation of the next day's dish. After that it was Shakespeare class, which also had Leah in it, followed by art, lunch, English, study hall period, and physics. Mr. Hermann, the physics teacher, had been kind enough to sympathize with Orihime's late start, and decided she could remain in class and do simplified assignments for the weeks left in the school year.    

By the time she met Renji at the tree across the street, she was tired and ready to go home. Renji looked as if he were ready to burst with boredom.

"Where did you go?" she asked as he waited for her to reposition her hair band.

"Nowhere."

"Really? What did you do?"

He stood arms crossed, looking out over the milling students shoving their way to the buses parked in the semi circle of drive. "Absolutely nothing."

"Oh." She sighed, smoothing her hair. "I'm sorry. Isn't there anything you can do?"

"We'll see how this week goes." They joined the procession of students already taking the sidewalk along the side street to the main cross street, Brooklyn-Pierport. "How'd your day go?"

"Good."

"Any trouble?"

"Uh-uh."

A group of seniors passed them on the sidewalk, a few of them turning to get a better look at them. No one said anything, but a few of their heads bobbed together in discussion as they turned back around.

"What'd you think of it?" Renji asked as they reached the end of the sidewalk where the busier street crossed.

"Oh, it's very different. We change classes and teachers. It's so crowded in the halls."

He was about to have them start across the street during a lull in the traffic, but a pudgy woman wearing a strange neon smock held up a hand and shoved a sign in their faces.

"Wait on the traffic!" she yelled.

Renji threw an arm in the direction of the street. "There is no traffic!"

"Uh, Renji," Orihime said.

"Wait for the light!" the woman called back, the sign wagging defiantly in his face.

Renji looked to the traffic light. One side was green, one side was red. "Which one?"

The woman ignored him, but stepped into the lanes as the traffic light changed, holding the sign up, the other hand flat and stabbing the air at cars that were already halted. She blew a whistle and the group of students that had joined Renji and Orihime began a collective movement across the street.

"Control freak," he muttered.

"I think we can go now," Orihime said meekly.

Home, such as it was, was almost a welcome sight by the time they got there. Almost. Renji unlocked the back door and ushered Orihime in. He took a quick look around the kitchen, living room, small bathroom and main floor bedroom -- which was serving as the host parents' _bedroom_, but only contained a futon and a coffee table -- and then the second level rooms. Nothing.

"All clear," he told Orihime as he joined her in the kitchen.

"Thank you." She slid off her book bag and looked eagerly to the refrigerator before glancing back at him. "They teach cooking there, Renji."

He wasn't sure how to react to that. "Oh, that's nice." Maybe he shouldn't ask. "What did you learn?"

"Oh, well, we just cooked the chicken today," she said, concentrating on the syllables of the words. "Tomorrow we cook, I think."

He nodded, and she headed for the staircase.

"I'll make something for supper."

He grimaced, watching her ascend the steps. "We could order out."

"I don't mind."

He sighed. Something hit the front door of the living room, and for a fleeting moment he thought of the katana in his bedroom, but didn't take the time to get it.

He flung open the front door, ready to pounce on _anything_, and found a rolled evening edition newspaper on the welcome mat. He looked around, but there was no sign of the paper carrier. He took the newspaper in.

English was fast becoming a familiar -- and tedious -- language for him, and whatever rules there were governing the printed word was elusive and subject to change, he'd noticed. Even so, Renji settled at the sofa with the newspaper. The headline on the front page floored him.

_'Attempted School Girls Abduction Foiled,'_ the headline read. He opened the paper, extending it to its full size to see the color photo in its entirety. Looking back at him was the individual class photos of four junior high girls, each with varying shades of auburn-brown hair of long lengths, each fourteen or fifteen years of age, in eighth grade at Jasper Middle School thirty miles from Brooklyn.

Renji frowned, reading the first paragraph carefully. According to the newspaper reporter, two armed men had attempted to take the girls from school property the previous Friday as they boarded a bus to go home. The gunmen had pulled the girls out of line as they waited to get on the buses, and the girls who resisted had been forced at gunpoint to accompany the men. The girls escaped when a parent picking up his son from the nearby high school had passed, witnessed the disturbance, and interrupted with his own handgun.

A registered handgun, legal in the state, and issued to the parent under the concealed-carry law by Michigan.

Renji scowled. There was some question by authorities if the man was to be charged with violating the firearm ban on school property. _Stupid authorities,_ he thought. _Where were their priorities?_ The men were taken into police custody and further details would be released as they became available, the article promised.

He looked closer at the photos. Any of them, in theory, could be Orihime Inoue, by description. Long hair with fading bangs in the front, parted to one side, some with barrettes, some with hair bands, large eyes, round pleasant faces.

Any of them.

He sat back, folding the paper as he heard Orihime coming down the stairs. Someone knew something. Aizen was indeed moving with humans.

Human mercenaries.

"Renji?" Orihime said again as he only returned her a thoughtful stare to her inquiry. "Should I make supper now?"

"Sure."

When she went into the kitchen, Renji quickly retrieved the katana from his bedroom upstairs.

He pulled it from its cloth scabbard, examining the razor sharp edge, thumb touching the polished metal testily.

Sharp enough for human flesh, he reasoned.

Thirty miles north of Brooklyn that evening, Karl Rybak was sitting in a low-rent hotel room, a different newspaper spread out in front of him on the bed, the same attempted kidnapping story on the page.

He reread the article.

Amateurs.

At a bus pick-up? In front of a junior high school? Not the top line of his Employer's long list of bounty hunters, surely. Definitely amateurs. After all, his Employer had expressly emphasized _no_ _guns_.

He took a magnifying loupe and looked closer at the photo of the two men being hauled away in handcuffs to squad cars. On one he could see a band above the cuff at his wrist. A flat one-inch band of steel with no detailing. Much like his own.

Rybak looked at his left wrist. The flat metal band had been welded on by an odious looking man as his Employer looked on.

_'To keep track of your progress, should extraction become necessary,'_ his Employer had said with that bland, innocuous look he always wore.

Rybak looked to the three phone directories opened on the bed. Three counties encompassing thirty-five school districts were included in his study. That was the region covered by the signal he'd been given. He was primarily interested in the high schools.

It was only a matter of time. A process of elimination.


	8. Fashionably Late

By Thursday Leah knew there was something seriously wrong with her new friend's taste buds. She and Meg had shared a cafeteria table with Orihime for the last few days, and the lunches had gotten stranger and stranger, even putting the cafeteria food to shame.

"I can't believe you're going to eat that," Meg said, her face wrinkling in distaste as she viewed Orihime's sack lunch.

Orihime smiled and held up the flour tortilla roll of pungent ingredients. "Would you like some? I brought enough to share?"

She had every other day, too, Leah had noticed.

"No," Meg said cautiously. "What is it?"

Orihime considered the roll. "Peanut butter, olives, and raisins."

Leah looked at the spot of red forming from the tortilla roll, dripping onto the lunch room table. They were the only ones left. The other three students who usually shared the table at lunch -- Stephen, Michael, and Danielle -- had escaped at the sight of Orihime's Wednesday lunch.

Leah nodded. "It's bleeding."

"Oops," Orihime said. "And pickled beets. Like umeboshi." She wiped at the red spot with a napkin and tilted the tortilla roll horizontal.

Meg turned to one side as she tried to hide a gag reflex, covering her mouth with her hand.

Leah cleared her throat, leaning over the table closer to Orihime. "Who packs your lunches, Inoue?"

"I do."

"Not Mrs. Smith?"

"No, me." Orihime positioned her plastic container of layered rice before her, for lack of a proper bento box, and took the wrapper off her spork. "Mrs. Smisu shops a lot. Mr. Smisu is a businessman."

Meg had recovered. "So, this is what you _want_ to eat?"

Orihime nodded, opening the plastic container to reveal rice topped with grated radish and sesame seeds. "I tried making the kitchen divan at home last night, but it didn't taste like what we made Tuesday in class."

To Leah's horror, Orihime topped the rice with the contents of a packet of ketchup. She had lost all interest in the taco salad she had intended to eat.

"But I used salmon instead of kitchen."

Meg and Leah had learned that meant _chicken_.

"And the broccoli was tough-looking, so I used asparagus instead, and I accidentally bought cream of potato soup instead of chicken soup."

Meg swallowed. "That's a lot of _insteads_, Inoue."

 Leah pushed away her salad. "Come over this Saturday and we'll make one at my house," she said to Orihime. She looked inquiringly to Meg, who was shaking her head.

"I'm babysitting," the blonde girl said.

"Inoue? Can you?" Leah asked.

Orihime frowned for a moment. "I don't know if I can. I don't think so." She brightened. "Why don't you come over to my house? Our house. I don't think Renji would mind."

This got Meg's attention. "Who's Renji?"

Orihime was at a loss. What had they practiced on the plane? "He's the brother. No, the son."

Meg warmed to the subject. "How old?"

Leah nudged her with an elbow. "Geez, Meg, down girl."

"Oh, I don't know," Orihime said. Actually, she didn't know. Not really. "Older than me."

"But he lives with his parents?" Leah asked, using the spork to pick through her salad.

"Yes."

"You think it would be okay with the Smiths?"

Orihime scooped a big sporkful of rice. "I'll ask them."

At first Renji was dead set against visitors, but when the mention of cooking a non-Orihime meal came up, he reconsidered. With conditions.

He'd spent the last few days becoming familiar with the buildings around Brooklyn High School. It was situated next to a residential block of older homes, opposite the side road with a single tennis court and a tiny poorly-designed _skate park _which consisted of a flimsy-looking ramp and two rails. He'd seen it in use, and it had proved capable of bringing assorted freshman boys to their bloody knees on several occasions during lunch. The school dead-ended on its own short street near the bus garage by the teachers' parking lot. All in all, it was a small complex, unspectacular in every way.

The attempted abduction at the junior high school thirty miles away was still on Renji's mind, and had been since he'd read of it. Despite the newspaper writer's promise for new details on the incident, none were forthcoming. Nothing.

He hadn't told Orihime about it, but he did catch her looking through the newspaper one morning in the kitchen. She'd said she was looking at the Busch's store sales paper, and maybe she was, but he'd rather her not know too much about the incident. No sense in making her more paranoid than necessary.

"What's wrong with your neck?" he asked for the second time that evening as they sat in the living room. They were both on the brown sofa, which was directly opposite the television, with the green wing chair and love seat to either side. In one corner was a ficus tree -- an imitation ficus tree of plastic, they had learned after Orihime had watered it. Twice.

She dropped her hand from the back of her neck, just below the hairline. "Oh, nothing."

He watched her go back to painting her fingernails as he used the remote control to switch channels on the television. Nothing but hockey games, but they were starting to grow on him.

"Did you finish all your homework?" His nerves grated at the words. It sounded so _human_.

"Yes, except for the sonnet we have to write, but that's not due until Monday."

"What's a sonnet?" He flicked to the next hockey game. It was playoffs, he'd learned, and according to the two games he'd partially seen already, there weren't many rules -- if any -- in the sport. It appealed to him.

"A poem. We're studying Shakespeare's sonnets." She blew gently on her pink fingernails.

Renji looked to the paperback book on the coffee table before them. Shakespeare was on the cover_. Nearly as ugly as the guys on the money,_ he thought.

"You have to write a sonnet?"

"Yup." She said the word quickly enough, but her eyes belied a pout.

He could only imagine who _that_ would be about. He settled on a game on the television.

She looked up at it, her eyes following one of the player's jerseys during a close-up camera shot. "Ooh, that looks like your hat."

He nodded, searching the screen for the team names of the quarter final game. "Chicago Blackhawks. So that's what that is."

"Thanks for letting Leah come over this Sunday," she said, shaking the bottle of nail polish to start on the other hand.

He nodded, intent on the game as a scuffle broke out and two players began circling each other on their skates. "Don't you get enough cooking at school?" The players suddenly threw down their gloves and reached for each others' jerseys. "You don't have to cook, Inoue."

"I like to cook." She carefully drew the small brush of polish over a fingernail, leaning over the coffee table.

He shrugged. "What're you going to make?" _And do I have to eat it,_ he almost said, but didn't.

"Basil and chicken rolls," she said deliberately, smiling at getting the names right. "They made it in school already, but it was earlier this year."

He nodded, watching the two players pummel each other on the ice, the black and white clad linesmen nearby, but not interfering. He felt a sudden flux in the spiritual fields and looked to the front door. The katana was close in its cloth case, stuck in the umbrella stand by the wing chair.

"Stay here," he said, getting to his feet.

She watched him check the lock on the front door, peek through the small peep hole that was too high for her to reach, and then glance out the narrow window covered by a lace curtain by the door that allowed view of the porch. His eyes moved across the yard, fingers twisting the ring on his left hand, and then he went into the kitchen.

"I'm going out to look around, Orihime. Stay put."

"I will," she said lowly. She didn't hear the back door open or close, and after a moment got up to look into the rear room.

The kitchen was empty.

Renji perched on the top of the highest rooftop in the neighborhood, relieved to be back in the black robes of a Soul Reaper. He searched the two lane road of Brooklyn-Pierport, but saw nothing amiss. A few cars, a man walking a dog in the growing dusk.

From his vantage point he could see farther into town, but there was no disturbance. In fact, the only ripple he'd felt earlier in spiritual energy had been minute, but it was still out of place in the void of Brooklyn.

He crossed town quickly, following the simple traipse of energy until he could pinpoint its strongest vein. The house looked like any other on the side street near the high school, two blocks from the center of town.

The spiritual tremor was fragile, flickering, and Renji alighted to an alley between two brick two-story homes divided by a chain link fence. Darkness had settled, thick and damp in the growing humid air. A low wheezing sound reached his ears, and he made his way to the house north of the fence from where the energy was radiating in slowly increasing ebbs.

He looked in the window at the man lying on the bed. He was old, well into his eighties in human years, dressed in pants and a shirt overly large and hanging on his thin form. Renji frowned, spotting a row of bottles of prescription medication on the nightstand beside the bed in the darkened room. The lamp wasn't on, but he could see half a dozen small photos in various frames, most of the faces young, a few older.

The man gasped, his bony hands clutching the coverlet he had pulled over himself, eyes closed, his struggle to breathe growing more labored.

_All those people, and he was going to die alone,_ Renji thought, watching the man. _Where was his family?_

He stepped from the window. He was quite sure the man's imminent passing was what he'd sensed in the spiritual realm, but decided to look around town for a few moments. He'd only been gone two minutes. Orihime would be safe.

Leah looked fondly at the basil plant, and then sighed. "You've got three more, Ray. Sell me this one."

Ray continued cutting up stew meat for the next day's special in the prep room of the Manic Groove. Oven beef stew was one of the family restaurant's specials, and Friday always brought out a crowd.

"What do you want with a lettuce-leaf basil plant, Leah?" he asked gruffly, his burly longshoreman exterior contradicting his finesse as head chef.

"I need it for a recipe." She turned the container, admiring the fourteen inch-high herb of fragrant greenery. "I can't get to the farmer's market before Sunday, and I'm not working tomorrow or Saturday." She looked to him, batting her green eyes at the middle-aged cook. To no avail.

"Who're you making dinner for, huh? Got a fellow you're trying to impress?" Ray chuckled, chopping up the beef deftly, adding the pieces to the six quart metal pan where a stack of meat was already waiting.

"No, but it's for a good cause." She glanced at the clock that read ten minutes past ten o'clock. Her legs ached. The dampness from the walk-in cooler had permeated her bare legs below her black capris, making her want to start the half mile walk home.

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Just don't tell Connie."

Leah nodded at the mention of the Manic Groove's owner. "Deal. Thanks, Ray."

"Don't forget to pinch it off," he called as she shucked her apron to reveal the standard attire for the restaurant, a tie-dye t-shirt, trimmed with matching fringe.

"I won't."

Renji didn't stay to witness the dying man's final breath. It wasn't shinigami protocol to interfere, but neither did he want to watch. He spent several moments above the buildings closer to town, observing the merchants heading home, cats slinking in alleys...

He wondered briefly if Yoruichi Shihôin was among them. _Not with the smells coming from those garbage cans,_ he thought, passing through to a secondary road leading away from town, at the verge of his half mile mark where a female form was walking, carrying a potted plant. After a moment he recognized her.

Cupcake.

Renji cringed. _Cupcake? Egad. How ignoble._ But it was the first thing he thought of when he saw her.

Well, maybe not the first thing, but one of the first.

He watched her until she crested the slight grade in the road and disappeared out of sight in the dark over the summit. It was too late to be walking alone down the road. Few houses were planted on either side of the road, as cornfields hinged on the outskirts of town.

He turned back to town, flash stepping to the dying man's house in time to see the frail whisper of a soul ascend the sky above. It was a mournful, weary form, barely discernible.

Renji looked in the bedroom window at the corpse. Still alone.

_No one should have to die alone, even in America,_ he thought. He slipped off the ring and put it on his left hand, and then used his elbow to break the glass in the window pane, and threw a rock from the fence weeds at the darkened brick house next door over. A light came on in an upstairs window.

When he got back home -- _yes_, he had to admit, _home_ -- Orihime was still on the couch where he'd left her five minutes ago.

Fingernails and toenails all painted pink.

"They're needles."

The baggage inspector looked at the slender, dark-haired youth opposite the airport check counter.

"Sewing needles," Uryû Ishida clarified. "It's a sewing kit."

The heavyset inspector held up the kit, thumbing through it with big meaty hands, her skeptical examination expecting contraband with every movement. "You a tailor or something?" she asked, shifting her considerable weight to each foot.

"I'm a student, and yes, sewing is a passion of mine." Ishida wished he could have studied up on his English before taking the impromptu trip across the ocean. It hadn't entirely been his choice, but there had been no denying the hair pins and set of numbers left for him in his glasses case three days ago.

The inspector looked at the growing line of passengers behind the Japanese youth. She slid his bags to him across the counter. "Okay. You can go."

"Thank you."

He repacked his bags further down the counter. No one had seen who delivered the hairpins at school. There had been few whom he could question about it, and most of them had become scarce.

He stuffed the last of his clothes in the bag and zipped the bag shut. Orihime had disappeared ten days ago, and he had his suspicions that Soul Society was behind it. That hadn't bothered him too much.

But when Karin and Yuzu Kurosaki had come up missing -- well, that was odd.

Even Tatsuki had been acting a little off lately, but Ishida thought that was because Orihime was absent.

Against his better judgment Ishida had paid a visit to the Kisuke Urahara shop. Urahara had been no help.

Well, a little help, Ishida decided as he gathered his two bags and headed for the exit of the airport, and to an unknown destination.

"Longitude and latitude," Urahara had said, smiling that sneaky smile of his, peeking out from his striped hat. "That's all I know." He pointed at the last number that was circled. "No clue what the fourteen means."

Ishida made his way to the line of taxis waiting outside the airport, then looked to the row of public transportation at the end of the curb.

Detroit smelled bad and it was noisy, he decided, heading for the blue and white double-decker buses.

There were few who would have left the hairpins and set of geographical coordinates. Considering that Orihime had returned from Hueco Mundo without her hairpins, he felt safe to assume that whoever had delivered them was also from there.

And from Aizen.

But why him? Why a Quincy?

Perhaps a sympathetic member of Aizen's minions. Perhaps an Espada. Perhaps Ulquiorra. Perhaps someone with a kindly bend toward Soul Society.

Someone high-ranking, Ishida thought as he looked at the destinations listed on the buses.

Perhaps Aizen had a traitor in his midst.     


	9. Role Playing

Renji looked with misgivings at the bowl of miso soup before him on the kitchen table the next morning. He recognized the white cubes of tofu, the scallions floating on the top of the broth, the sesame seeds sprinkled on. The soup's base, however, was definitely off-smelling and too grainy. And yellow.

"No dashi?" he finally asked, ladling another spoonful testily before letting it drop back into the ceramic bowl.

"No; it's sardine juice. They didn't have any dashi stock at Busch's, and this is close." Orihime sat down with her own bowl at the table. She pushed a plastic sleeve of saltine crackers to him. "There was no dried wakame, so we have crackers. Everyone here uses saltines in soup at school."

He propped both elbows on the table, glaring at the contents of the bowl, determined to eat at least half of it.

Orihime broke one of her three cracker squares into the soup, stirring it gently. "Are you going to use the grass mower today?"

He nodded, smelling one of the crackers before crushing it in his hands over the bowl. "If the damn thing works." The lawn push-mower he'd found in the dank basement last night was not the newest model, and had lost a wheel when he dragged it up the stairs to the garage. Their neighbors had already cut the grass once each the last week, and one of them, their neighbor north, had mowed twice. He wasn't entirely sure that neighbor had done yard work for the right reasons. The guy was single, mid-twenties, living in a rental house, and had spent most of his time watching Orihime as she admired the flowers in their front yard. Renji had a good mind to pay the guy a visit.

Against his better judgment, he raised a spoonful of the yellowish soup to his lips.

Orihime had just tasted hers. She chewed slowly, watching him. "It has lots of flavor."

He nodded, forcing himself to swallow the pungent liquid. "It doesn't taste much like sardines."

"Oh, well, I accidentally bought the sardines packed in mustard."

The bite of fish and broth threatened to come back up his throat, but Renji refused it passage. He crumbled four more crackers into the bowl. "When's Leah coming over?"

"Eleven o'clock." She eased down a bite of her own.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, figuring he could starve until then, but didn't want to trounce on Orihime's efforts. "I don't care if you have a few friends over, Inoue, but be careful. We have to look average, but you don't have to befriend everyone. No guys."

"I only know one anyway."

His attention left the soup. "Who?"

"Scott. He has the locker next to me. Leah said he was kind of grabby, so --"

"Then don't talk to him," he said sharply.

She nodded slowly. "Okay. I don't much."

"Well, make it less." His attention settled back to the soup, moving a piece of tofu that had turned strangely yellow. "What about that other girl? Mag."

"Meg. She's really nice, too, but she had to baby-sit today." Orihime looked with reservations at the yellowing cubes in her bowl. "I think the tofu is absorbing the mustard sauce."

He nodded.

She pursed her lips, debating her next words. "Renji, what about Tatsuki?"

He looked up quickly. "What about her?"

"Is she going to be okay?" Her eyes held a cautious inquiry. "Aizen won't come after her, will he?"

"Soul Society will take care of her."

"And Karin?"

The softness in her tone made him sigh. "Yes, Karin and Yuzu, too. I'm sure Ishida has gone off to strengthen his skills as a Quincy, and --"

"Ishida?" Orihime's tone was more pointed now. She leaned slightly over her soup, fingertips of both hands planted on the table. "Is he gone?"

_Oh, shit,_ Renji thought. He scratched the back of his head, just below the ponytail, considering the lies he could tell. He found himself shrugging. "I'm sure he just took off on his own. There's a break in classes. You know how he is."  

She nodded. "Yes," she murmured. "He's very thoughtful."

He looked at her, trying to read her expression as she hovered over her soup. "I'm sure he's okay."

She sat straighter, smiling. "Hai."

It was ten minutes to eleven by the time Orihime answered the knock to the front door in the living room. She straightened her apricot colored blouse over her tan capris. She'd spent most of the morning making the small house tidy and welcome, which hadn't taken much, but first impressions were important.

Which was partly why Renji was still in the garage working on _'that cussed mower'_, she'd learned to call it. Occasionally she heard the sputter of the mower engine, but it always cut out before gaining any speed.

She approached the door cautiously. Maybe she should have Renji answer it. He had said she could answer the front door if she was expecting someone.

Her hand paused on the door knob. She hoped it wasn't the neighbor again. _How many cups of sugar could a single man borrow in a weekend, anyway? _she thought.

She opened the door. For a moment there was only large leafy foliage, and then Leah turned around, peeking from the plant she carried.

"Hi!" Orihime opened the door wide.

Leah smiled when she saw her. "Hey, I'm so glad this is the right place."

"Come in." Orihime stepped aside and Leah came into the living room.

"The address sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it." Leah switched the plant to her other hip. "I've got the basil."

Orihime leaned closer to the plant, inhaling, making a face at the strong smell. "We're using fresh?"

Leah nodded. "It's best to use the larger leaves. That's what the head chef says."

Orihime took the plant while Leah removed her shoes and set them to the side. She brushed her coral t-shirt of leaf fragments and Orihime handed back the plant.

"Thanks."

"Come on in."

Leah followed her into the kitchen where a radio was playing lowly on the counter near the toaster. "Are you here alone?"

"Oh, no. Renji is outside. Mr. Smisu is still gone on business, and Mrs. Smisu is shopping."

Leah set the plant on the counter, frowning. "She sure shops a lot."

Orihime nodded slowly. "All the time." She didn't like the idea of lying to Leah, but there was no choice. "Do you live close by?"

"Uh, not really. About a half mile on the other side of school."

"Half mile," Orihime repeated.

"Yeah. Uh, I'm not sure what that is in kilometers."

Orihime opened a cupboard. "Would you like tea?"

"Sure. Thanks." She watched Orihime pour two glasses of ice tea from a pitcher she took from the refrigerator, listening to the weekend farm report update. It wasn't what she thought would be on the radio. The room was painted a mild yellow, accented with peach colored tiles making up the splashboard around the sink. The stove and refrigerator were an avocado green. "We'll need a rolling pin or mallet and a plastic bag to make the basil rolls."

Orihime nodded. "And the kitchen."

"And the chicken." Leah looked to the bracelet the other girl wore. "You might want to take that off. It'll probably get dirty."

Orihime's eyes went to the bangle, shaking her head. "I can't."

Leah tilted her head curiously. "You can't?"

"Well, I can. Of course I can," Orihime said with a giggle. "But I, well, I like to wear it all the time. It was a gift."

"Oh. Well, okay."

They spent the next twenty minutes cleaning the boned, skinned chicken breasts and washing the large basil leaves and patting them dry with paper toweling. On the counter were arranged breadcrumbs, parmesan cheese, two eggs, and a handful of toothpicks.

Orihime looked down with misgivings at the chicken breast in the sealed plastic bag, the rolling pin in her hand. "Are you sure?"

Leah nodded. "You just pound on it until its flat, to a quarter-inch in thickness. Then we'll roll them."

Orihime glanced at the basil leaves on the paper towels that were nearly half the size of her palm. "I didn't see anything like that at the Busch's market."

"It's not from Busch's. They've got a lousy selection of produce. I brought it from the Manic Groove restaurant. I work there a couple nights a week and sometimes weekends." She watched Orihime position the rolling pin over the bag hesitantly. "They get a lot of supplies from growers at the Pierport farmers' market. They've got everything there; produce, eggs, craft things, and they sell to the public on weekends." She nodded to the bagged chicken. "Go ahead and pound it."

Orihime raised the dowel. "What kind of produce?"

"Well, vegetables and fruits from local hothouses, and home preserves." She smiled as Orihime timidly brought the rolling pin down on the bagged chicken. "Harder, Inoue."

Orihime whacked the chicken again with more force. "Are you sure?"

"Yup. It's good for getting rid of frustrations, too."

Orihime smiled and belted the bag again.

The back door by the refrigerator was flung open and Renji burst into the kitchen, startling them both, and making Leah yelp for more reasons than one.

"What the hell are you doing, Orihime?" he'd yelled in Japanese before spotting Leah.

They both looked to him in surprise, flinching again. Leah withdrew a step farther as he entered and closed the door behind him.

"We're cooking," Orihime said. She tapped the rolling pin on the bagged chicken. "See?"

His eyes were locked on Leah. _The Cupcake? In his kitchen?_

"Hi," she said with a small smile, raising a hand and wiggling a few fingers in greeting.

He glanced to each of them in turn. "Hi."

Orihime wiped her hands on a dish towel. "Renji, this is Leah from school. Leah, this is Renji --"

"Renji Smith," he said before she could finish, doubting her memory, and trying to pronounce the name correctly.

"Hi." Leah wiped her hand on the back of her jeans after a few second's pause, and extended it to him.

His hand reached for hers, and then he stopped, seeing the dark grime from the mower on the palm. He cleared his throat, looking to the counter. "This is cooking? What are you making?"

Orihime held up the bag with the half flattened chicken breast. "Basil chicken rolls."

He looked to Leah, who was eyeing the smudge of grease on his cheek. He nodded. "You have to beat it?"

They both nodded.

He looked Leah over carefully.

She smiled fuller. "You were in the shop last week. I guess you're staying for a while?"

For a moment he wasn't sure how to respond. He was hoping she'd forget what he had said.

"For a while." He looked back to Orihime. "Will that be supper?"

"Hai - yes."

"Good," he said with more relief than he cared to admit.

He disappeared into the living room and down the short hall. Leah turned to Orihime. "He lives here?"

"Uh-huh." She positioned the bag and chicken on the counter again and hit it with the rolling pin. She paused. "You saw him at the shop ... the cake shop?"

Leah nodded, leaning one hip to the counter. "I work there." She chuckled. "I remember you coming in last week, too. The baker, well, he noticed you, too."

Orihime frowned. "I didn't see you."

"Oh, I was in back. Doing donuts."

Orihime resumed pounding the chicken.

Leah glanced to the hall and then back to the chicken submitting to a flattened mass in the bag. "That one is done."

They set the chicken aside on a plate and put another in the bag.

"Does he always come busting in the door like that?" Leah asked as Orihime brought the rolling pin down on the bag.

"Oh, no. I think he didn't know what the noise was."

Leah watched the chicken flatten beneath Orihime's attack, this one more quickly than the first. "He speaks Japanese, too?"

Orihime paused, realizing Renji's mistake. "Oh. Some." She thought quickly, estimating Leah's inquisitiveness. "He was a foreign exchange student for Japan a few years ago. When he was in school," she added, smiling at her resourcefulness.

"Really? Did he stay with your family there?"

Orihime tried not to recoil at the thought. There was _so_ _much_ wrong with Leah's query...

"Oh, no."

"You didn't know him before you transferred here?"

Orihime frowned. "No." She hit the bag, coming to terms that despite all her and Renji's practicing, they'd left out a few details. More accurately, Division Ten had. After all, Captain Hitsugaya and Matsumoto were in charge of this operation. Which made her think of others in hiding, or missing.

Leah straightened at the counter and turned to dab with a paper towel at the drying basil leaves as Orihime pounded out the chicken. "How many rolls do you think we should make? Will Mr. and Mrs. Smith be back for supper or is it just you two?"

"Two? Three." Orihime decided the chicken was flat enough. "I thought you were staying, too."

"Oh?" Leah sorted through the basil. "Is it okay with ... Do the Smiths leave you alone a lot, Inoue?"

Orihime added the chicken to the plate and found another piece to pound. "I'm not alone." She looked to Renji as he reappeared in the kitchen, minus the smudge. "All cleaned up?"

He nodded, extending a hand to Leah. She wiped her hand on the dish towel and shook his hand.

"Thank you for helping Inoue at school."

She smiled, her green eyes lingering on the black head rag he wore. "She's nice." She retrieved her hand and turned back to the basil as he looked over Orihime's shoulder.

Leah tried to resist, but her attention went back to him. At this proximity there was no mistake about the tattoos, and the wrap did little to hide them. She didn't realize he was returning her observation until she'd been staring for a moment.

She looked back at the basil leaves, which were all dry and verging on wilting from being handled.

"Are you staying for dinner?" he asked her.

Leah looked from him to Orihime, who smiled hopefully.

"If it's okay with your folks."

A look of confusion passed over Renji for a second, then he nodded. "It's okay with them."

"Sure."

By the time the flattened chicken had been layered with the large basil leaves and rolled, dipped in egg wash and dredged in bread crumbs and parmesan cheese, skewered shut with toothpicks and fried, Leah had come to the conclusion that something was amiss at the Smith house. Maybe more than _one_ something.

It wasn't uncomfortable eating at the small table with Orihime and Renji. She didn't feel unwelcome. Far from it.

The fact that they'd used chopsticks was a little unusual, Leah thought through the meal, without a fork in sight, for one thing. She could understand Orihime's use of the bamboo pieces, but Renji? And just as adept.

Leah had made do with the chopsticks, chasing around her plate the grains of white rice Orihime had cooked with chopped bamboo shoots in chicken stock. She was relatively successful. She also noted that Renji had added liberal amounts of teriyaki sauce to his portions.

No one mentioned Orihime's host parents. Renji never mentioned his parents. Not once did Mr. or Mrs. Smith get a nod in the conversation.

What they did discuss was the farmers market, of which Orihime was very interested. Leah described it in detail. She promised to draw a map to its location for them.

When the meal was over and the dishes stacked in the dishwasher, Orihime and Leah headed upstairs to her bedroom. At the foot of the staircase Leah paused, her view going to the bedroom at the end of the short hall near the ground floor bathroom. All she could see was the edge of a futon and a table lamp. She climbed the stairs with Orihime, her mind pushing several thoughts to the front.

The house was nearly bare. Over the course of the meal a few details had trickled out of Orihime and Renji. None were conclusive, but something seemed odd in the house.

When they got to the turn at the top of the stairs landing, Leah figured it out. No photos. Not a single picture on the bare walls. No landscapes, no oil paintings, no family photos of Renji or other children through the years, no school portraits.

She frowned. She'd think she would recognize younger versions of school age mug shots of Renji.

She glanced in the blue bedroom at the top of the stairs as they turned down the hall on the upper level. _Nothing on those walls either,_ she thought. Not even a pin-up of some nearly naked babe-of-the-month. But what she did see nearly made her stop.

Was that a real sword on the bed?

She nearly ran into Orihime as the Japanese girl stopped at the last bedroom near the bathroom.

"Right here," Orihime said, gesturing into the room.

Leah stepped in, looking around. Nothing on the walls except for a full length mirror. Everything in the house had such a transitory feel.

She shrugged the feeling away. "Have you finished your sonnet yet for Shakespeare?"

"No. Have you?"

They settled on the bed where Orihime's school books were scattered.

"No. I'm not good at poetry. I'd rather read a play." Leah looked at the geometry book. "How're you doing in Mrs. Coffey's class?"

Orihime rubbed the back of her neck with her fingers. "Okay, I think."

"You should come over some day next week. We'll make brownies."

Renji suddenly darkened the doorway and they both looked to him. "Stay here," he said, looking at Orihime.

Leah watched him leave. "Does he always call the shots for you?" When Orihime looked at her perplexed, Leah said: "Does he tell you what to do a lot?"

"Oh! No, no." Orihime giggled nervously. "He must be going down to the store or something. He just doesn't want me to get lost."

"Oh." Leah's eyes rested on the bracelet. "Who gave you the bangle?"

Orihime looked at her wrist. "A friend. In Japan."

"Oh, yeah? A boyfriend?" Leah grinned hintingly.

Orihime blushed, her mind going in a direction Leah could never imagine. "No."

"It's pretty."

Orihime nodded, fingering the sapphire set in the bangle. "What should the sonnet be about?"

Leah shrugged, sighing, looking around the room for a clock. "Love. Most sonnets are about love. Someone special. Someone important to you."

"Have you ever written one?"

Leah tried to laugh, but failed. "I've never had the inspiration." She saw something vulnerable flicker across the other girl's face. "Have you, Inoue?"

"I have people important to me, yes." Orihime gathered a smile together. "A few people are very important to me."

Leah nodded. "You're lucky." She looked to the clock again. Nearly four o'clock. "I should go. I've got a bus load of laundry to do before my brother goes back to college tonight."

Orihime rose when Leah did and they walked back down the hall to the staircase. "Your brother is at university?"

"Well, it's Eastern, so, yeah. It's not State, but it's a good school." She glanced into the blue bedroom as they passed it. The sword was gone. She frowned, following Orihime down the stairs. "I promised I'd do his laundry before he went back."

"Do you live with him?"

Leah thought it an odd question, but maybe it was just Orihime's phrasing. "He lives at home, yes. We live with my mom. She's working tonight."

"Oh. That's nice." There was a drop in her tone.

Leah decided against asking about it. When they reached the bottom of the stairs she did have a question. "There was a sword in the first bedroom."

Orihime nodded. "Renji's bedroom."

"Yeah, well, is it real?" Leah was instantly regretful of saying anything about it. "I mean, is it for something? A reenactment group or the SCA or something?"

Orihime nodded slowly as they went into the living room. "Something like that. Kind of, I think."

Leah sighed, slipping on her shoes at the front door. "That makes sense." Finally.

"Oh, your basil plant!"

Leah caught her arm as she started to the kitchen. "Keep it. It's better than anything at Busch's."

"Okay. Thank you."

Leah smiled. "See you at school tomorrow."

"Good-bye."

After Leah had left, Orihime's thought turned to dinner. Renji seemed to like the basil chicken rolls. Maybe they could try other variations.

Her thoughts went to the sonnet she still had yet to write. She touched the back of her neck.

Perhaps inspiration was closer than she thought.


	10. Four Down

It wasn't what Ishida wanted to do. It was far from anything he'd ever done before, in fact. But he had to stay somewhere.

The For Sale sign in the small yard of the stone house at the outskirts of town was dusty and lopsided, the white back ground dirty, the black letters faded. It had been there a while. The house hadn't been sold for almost a year.

Ishida didn't know all the details. He'd grabbed a _Parade of Homes_ publication that listed houses for sale in the area, and this one was one of the closest to the bus stop he'd been dropped at. His finances were limited. The round trip airfare had sapped his resources, and he couldn't afford to both feed himself and pay for housing. One had to go.

Urahara had been helpful in giving him pointers on that issue. Still, as much as the man in the striped hat had helped human, Soul Reaper, and Quincy alike, there was something about the man that Ishida didn't trust.

Entering the house -- he didn't want to use the term breaking-in -- was accomplished through the back door near the cellar, easily accessed by the frail lock and relative obscurity from the neighboring houses. Tall mature spruce trees were planted tightly together, knitting a wall of greenery on both sides of the acre of property, covering his actions from the neighbors. The only outbuilding was a freestanding single car garage set apart from the house by the driveway.

He looked around the small enclosed porch at the back of the house, and then turned the doorknob that opened, unlocked, into the kitchen. Easier than he'd thought it would be. He set his bags down, looking at the cream walls of the kitchen. The closed-up smell of an abandoned house met his nose.

Home sweet home.

Orihime crumpled the paper with the poem in her hand, balling it tightly. Not that she thought Renji would try to read her garbage, but there were some things not to be read.

Which was why she discarded it. She couldn't read it in front of class. Besides, it wasn't true anymore. Not entirely. Not like it used to be. She'd been coming to terms with that lately.

Half the Shakespeare class hadn't finished the assignment of writing a sonnet by Monday, so Mrs. Auden had given them until Friday to finish the work.

The void that threatened to overcome Orihime's senses was washing over her again. She closed her eyes, putting a hand to the back of her neck, wishing it would pass quickly. The moments of fading lasted a little longer recently, came on more often than before. She couldn't pass it off as jet lag anymore.

She opened her eyes as she heard footsteps in the hall. She looked to the open doorway to see Renji.

He jerked a thumb behind him. "Leah and Mag are here."

"Meg."

"Meg."

She nodded and followed him down the hall. It was Wednesday already, and after touting Leah and Meg's virtues of trustworthiness, Renji had agreed she could meet them and Danielle for a two-on-two game of volleyball at the junior high school's court. With him.

She hadn't argued, knowing it was pointless, and not really wanting to be on her own anyway, but it was starting to look odd. He agreed, but hadn't offered any alternative. Staying human was a priority.

Until they reached the bottom of the staircase.

Renji had felt a slight ripple in the energy force, a sudden density that hadn't been there before, just enough to make him want to go outside to look around, like on Sunday afternoon, but it was unnecessary.

Ikkaku was already on the front porch, looking in the screen door as Leah and Meg stared back at him, frozen perturbed expressions on their faces.

Orihime clutched Renji's elbow as she pointed to the door.

"Renji!" the bald man cried, grabbing the door latch and opening it before anyone could speak.

Both Leah and Meg emitted a shocked squeak as they looked from Ikkaku's entrance to Renji and Orihime. Meg added a gasp when she saw Renji.

He looked to the startled faces of Orihime's classmates, and then shot a glance back to Ikkaku. "Hey! _Charlie_!"

Ikkaku pulled the door shut behind him, and Leah and Meg immediately made room for him at the small doorway.

"Charlie, _cousin_," Renji said, grinning and slapping the fellow human-shinigami on the shoulder.

Meg recoiled as if she were the one receiving the slap.

"Hi, Leah, Meg," Orihime said, pulling them farther into the living room. She fought off the last of the dwindling surreal feeling. "Where's Danielle?"

Meg pulled her eyes away from Ikkaku and Renji as the Soul Reapers stepped out onto the porch. "She's meeting us there."

"Oh."

Leah tilted her head to see the men on the porch. "That's Renji's cousin?"

Orihime forced a smile. "Uh-huh. I've only seen him once before."

Meg was looking the bald man over. "He doesn't have any shoes on, Inoue."

"He doesn't like to wear them."

Leah nodded, the strangeness of the household was starting to shock her less with each visit. "Are you ready to go?"

"Uh-huh."

The junior high school had been the high school for over twenty-five years, but was turned over to the lower grades when the current Brooklyn High School was built four years ago.

There were a few new courts surrounding the large brick building, including one for tennis, two for basketball, and one for volleyball, which had grass growing between the cracked asphalt. 

On the walk over they eventually separated, with Renji and Ikkaku falling behind, and Orihime and her friends pulling away. The junior high was a few blocks from the high school, nearer to the elementary school.

Ikkaku had gotten as comfortable as possible in a pair of brown fatigues and a loose fitting gray t-shirt that boasted a panther's head on it. Slung over one shoulder was a cloth bag over three feet long. Renji could see the edge of a sword hilt sticking out of it. He eyed the six foot-long rattan bo in the bald man's hand that he was using as a walking stick.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as they continued down the sidewalk in the late afternoon sun. "Replacing me?"

Ikkaku sent him a dark smile. "Nope. Checking up on you two. Captain Zaraki was out a few days ago, but he couldn't find the place."

Renji nodded. "Just checking up?"

Ikkaku's smile turned sly. "And to make sure you're not getting too patina'd."

Renji scowled. "You mean rusty."

Ikkaku clapped a hand on his shoulder. "At least you admit it!"

Ahead of them Leah and Meg turned at the outburst, then faced front again, leaning in to speak to Orihime between them.

"You're human now, Madarame," Renji reminded in a lower tone. "People can see and hear you."

Ikkaku nodded. "That's why we should change now." His fingers edged to the ring on his left hand.

"Oh, no you don't. Twice the spiritual energy would draw attention. If there's one thing this place is, it's spiritually empty." Renji ran a hand over his head, returning the stares of two junior high age boys on bikes on the opposite sidewalk across the road. "You're stuck in human."

"It's so confining."

"You'll get used to it."

"I'm not going to be around long enough to get used to it."

Renji glanced at him sideways, his tone softening. "How is she?"

Ikkaku shrugged, his smile dimming a bit. "The same. Well. Busy."

Renji swore under his breath. "That doesn't tell me anything." His eyes went to the girls ahead of them. Orihime and Leah were in capris and t-shirts and Meg had on a pair of sweat pants rolled to her calves and a short sleeve hoodie. "Has she even noticed --"

"That you're gone?" Ikkaku grinned wider as they passed the last residential block and the walk turned to the school district.

"That's, that isn't ..." Well, it _was_ what he meant, anyway.

"Yup. She asked about you. Oh, and Orihime, too." Ikkaku jabbed the bo in Renji's rib.

Renji grabbed the rattan stick and a shoving match ensued, halting their progress, until Orihime's sing-song _"Yoo-hoo!"_ from ahead broke them apart.

Ikkaku returned the wave Orihime sent before the girls turned back around and they proceeded on.

"Kurosaki asked about Orihime, too, but you didn't ask about that, did you?"

"No, I didn't."

"He said you better take care of her."

"That's what I'm doing." Renji was growing anxious for something to do, and he figured Ikkaku would be up for a spar.

Ikkaku scratched his head. "Why _Charlie_?"

"It was all I could think of."

They reached the junior high parking lot, situated off a side street near the elementary school. It was a small complex, and Renji was beginning to think everything in Brooklyn was small compared to Karakura Town.

The tennis court was sandwiched between the two basketball hoop courts and one for volleyball. Already a tall thin girl with dull blonde hair in a pony tail was waiting beside a bike, turning a volleyball in her hands.

A chorus of _"Danielle!"_ went up from Orihime, Leah, and Meg as they met her at the net, and Orihime waved to Renji before they wandered onto the well-worn asphalt court.

Renji paused as they did, his eyes taking in the surroundings. Not much to see, really. A few kids rollerblading on the one-way street leading from the elementary to a street converging into town. Three boys of about eleven years-old were shooting hoops at one of the basketball courts. The schools were accessed by the one-way street and the main double lane side street they had walked up. The elementary school was small, brick, and sat away from the junior high by a circle drive with a flag pole and small flower garden in the center. Behind it, not quite out of sight from the volleyball court, was the staff parking lot.

"What's in the bag?" Renji asked Ikkaku, who was watching Leah and Meg pull their hair up into ponytails as Danielle tried to dribble the volleyball on the court.

"This is what you do all day?" Ikkaku pointed to the court.

Renji growled. "Yes. That's my assignment."

"Huh." Ikkaku shook his head, watching Orihime refasten her hairclips. "You must be bored out of your skull."

"Speaking of skulls --"

Ikkaku turned on him, scowling. "Let's see how much training you've lost in the last two weeks."

"Let's."

The parking lot behind the elementary school opened into a grassy stretch of about fifty feet square, and from it Renji and Ikkaku could see the sports courts. Shouts from the boys shooting basketballs and laughter from the girls could be heard at the distance. The few residential homes whose yards backed up to the courts were separated by tight shrubbery head high.

Ikkaku dropped his pack, and then sunk to his heels beside it. "No! Not my Little Debbies!" From the sack he withdrew a dented cardboard box of snack cakes bearing the image of a smiling girl with a straw hat in the corner. He pulled open the end, shaking out the two contents inside. He held up the pair of plastic wrapped snack cakes. "Have you tried these?"

Renji looked closer at the strawberry and cream cake rolls. "No."

Ikkaku stood up and handed him one before tearing open his own treat. "They're very delicious. I already ate the chocolate ones on the way over from Manchester."

Renji looked at the wrapped snack cake. "You walked from Manchester?" He'd seen it on the map in the telephone directory. "That's five kilometers."

"I know. I couldn't get a ride." Ikkaku stuffed the entire snack into his mouth and chewed. "Ichigo," he said with a grin.

Renji lost interest in the snack. "Yeah. No thanks." He handed it back.

"You don't know what you're missing, Abarai."

Renji decided to ignore most of the ways he could have interpreted that remark. "Factory-made pastries? Orihime's friend hand-makes these in her sleep. I've had better."

Ikkaku looked to the two-on-two volleyball game in progress a football field's distance away. "Which one?"

"Leah." He nudged the bag with his foot. "What else have you got in there?"

Ikkaku caringly replaced the snack cake in the box and put it inside the bag, and then withdrew a black hardwood boken. He tossed it to Renji and stood, swiping his own bo.

Renji examined the practice sword, which had the dimensions of a real katana, its hilt wrapped with leather, the bronze tsuba a spoke-wheel shaped round. _Reduced to a wooden sword,_ he thought.

Ikkaku stepped back and switched his rattan bo expertly. "Let's see how far you've slipped, lieutenant!"

Renji looked to the volleyball court. Satisfied that Orihime was indeed safe, he gripped the weighty boken, testily swinging it a few times, and looked to Ikkaku as he circled.

The bald man stopped and drew back into a crouched-ready position, and then launched at Renji.

Orihime and Leah both reached for the volleyball at the same time, chiming _"Got it!"_ simultaneously, their heads colliding at the net. Leah had never received such a crushing blow before, not even when she'd gotten thrown from her Aunt Dorothy's horse when she was younger. She steadied on her feet and rubbed her temple, looking to Orihime.

"I'm sorry!" the Japanese girl said, one hand at her own head. The volleyball rolled away to the end of the court.

"Whoo-hoo!" Danielle cried as she high-fived Meg. "That's game point!"

"Are you okay?" Orihime asked as Leah held her head.

"Yup." Leah tried to blink away the stars dancing through her vision.

"We're even," Meg said, panting, pulling her shirt away from her chest. "A game apiece."

Danielle put her hands on her hips. "Up for a tie-breaker?"

Orihime and Leah nodded.

Meg reached for her water bottle at the chain link fence dividing the courts. "In a few minutes. I'm steaming."

They all settled at the fence, sorting out water bottles, Leah and Danielle retying their ponytails.

Leah nodded to the elementary playground that was partially in view. "Aren't those some of your rugrats, Meg?"

Meg looked to the playground, nodding at the fourth-graders running about on the equipment. "Part of the tribe."

"Meg baby-sits for half her neighborhood," Leah explained to Orihime. "She's always watching someone's kids."

Meg nodded, leaning back against the fence. "The Mason's are expecting twins next month."

Orihime sighed, still breathing hard from the exercise. Beyond the elementary school she could see Renji and Ikkaku, the second mock battle in progress. She knew it was the second because she'd heard Ikkaku's triumphant shout ten minutes ago at the end of the first joust.

Meg was following her gaze. "They're not serious, are they?"

Orihime shook her head, giggling. "Oh, no. Just practice."

Leah watched the encounter for a moment. "Practice for what?"

Orihime frowned. "I'm not sure what you'd call it," she said slowly, trying to gain time to think of something to say. "It's, it's a ..."

"Reenactment?" Danielle offered, swigging down her water, watching the men in the distance. "Mr. Mantyck in world history last year was always talking about the Society for Creative Anachronism. Is that it, Inoue?"

Orihime nodded. "I think so."

"I had Mantyck, too," Leah added. "He was the biggest history buff I've ever seen. Wasn't he part of that? Lord Something-or-Other?"

Danielle nodded. "I don't remember the whole title, but he really worked up his persona. Made us watch a video of his outfit or whatever it was from a renaissance fair. The Northwoods Horde or something."

Meg made a disagreeable face. "I had Mrs. Stevens for World History. Boring."

Leah watched Renji land an exceptionally hard blow to Ikkaku's upper arm. The bald man let loose with a colorful string of oaths in Japanese. "I didn't realize the SCA had an Oriental branch."

Danielle giggled. "Or one for mad monks."

Meg looked to her. "Who?"

Danielle gestured to the two men exchanging blows. "Doesn't Charlie look like a monk?"

"Mr. Mantyck left that part out," Leah said.

Orihime smoothed back her hair, resisting the urge to touch the sore spot at the back of her neck. At least her muddled thinking had cleared. She saw Danielle look at the watch strapped to her water bottle.

"We've got to start soon if we're going to break this tie," the tall girl said, getting to her feet. "I've got to work at seven."

Meg leaned closer to Orihime. "She works at the Manic Groove, like Leah."

Orihime turned to Leah, who was still watching the spar. "Danielle works with you?"

Leah pulled her attention away, looking to Orihime. "Hmm? Oh, yes, but she's a waitress. Very glamorous."

Danielle rolled her eyes and put the cap on her water bottle. "Yeah. Real glamorous. Some days I envy you and your chopping block."

Orihime, Leah, and Meg stood up, tossing their water bottles to the fence.

Meg gathered the volleyball at the end of the court and brought it to the net. "Ready to break this tie?"

Renji grit his teeth at the rattan's crack on the back of his arm near his wrist. He gripped the boken tighter, beating back his opponent. "Not on the watch!"

Ikkaku only grinned wider, dodging a flurry of wooden strikes. "Then be quicker, Abarai!"

Renji landed a blow on Ikkaku's ribs when he was exposed.

"Agh!" Ikkaku danced back a step. "Damn human bodies! So easily damaged!"

Renji deflected the bo's thrust with the boken as Ikkaku attacked again, then sent an uppercut that clipped the man's chin. "Make you so ugly Ayasegawa won't look at you again!"

Ikkaku rubbed the back of his hand on his chin, and then lunged again.

A laugh from Orihime made Renji's attention shift for a fleeting second, and the bo landed with a whack on his lower ribs.

An _"__oof!"_ escaped him before he could ward off the stick again.

"Some blue to go with all that black. A distracted warrior is a weakened warrior!" Ikkaku said gleefully. "A mission is compromised!"

Renji stepped back, looking to Orihime and Leah sitting on the bench nearer the elementary school now. Meg and Danielle were nowhere in sight.

He lowered the sword. "That is my mission," he said with a nod at Orihime.

Ikkaku looked to the girls, then back to Renji in disappointment. "Over so soon?"

"Yeah." Renji put a hand to the spot where the bo had landed. Already he could feel the heat of swelling on his rib. "Damn human flesh."

Ikkaku nodded in agreement. "I forgot how uncomfortable they are."

The walk home took fifteen minutes. Leah said her good-byes and split off from Orihime, Renji, and Ikkaku two blocks from the house to take a road leading to one that turned out of town. The townsfolk were still milling about the sidewalks and in yards in the early evening, relieved the weather was warming for the spring after the long winter months.

Renji unlocked the back door to the house when they reached it and went in, followed by Orihime and Ikkaku, the last standing akimbo in the kitchen, looking around, nodding.

"Not too bad. Has a definite Matsumoto touch."

Renji checked the lock on the door leading to the basement. "She'd have your head for a comment like that."

Ikkaku spied the box of donuts on the counter. "Ooh, from Little Debbie?"

Orihime looked to him. "Who's Little Debbie?"

Ikkaku lifted the box lid, his eyes lighting up.

"It's Leah, not Debbie," Renji said, then looked to Orihime as she found a glass in the cupboard. "I'm going to look around."

"Hai."

Renji made a quick study of the living room, unlocking and opening the front door to retrieve the late newspaper, and then relocked it and made his way down the short hall. The back bedroom and bathroom were empty, so he headed up the staircase.

His room was empty, so he looked into the bathroom to find the same, and then Orihime's room. Everything was fine. He rolled the newspaper tighter in his hand, and turned as Orihime stepped into the room.

"Everything's okay," he said.

She nodded, leaning against the wall by the light switch. "Charlie is still in the kitchen."

"You can call him Ikkaku when your friends aren't here, Orihime."

She nodded, and then put a hand to her forehead, squinting at him.

He stepped closer. "Are you all right?"

"Uh-huh." She pushed harder against the wall, and then started sliding down it, her knees buckling.

Renji dropped the newspaper and caught her before she hit the floor, pulling her upright as she sagged. "Inoue, are you okay?"

She opened her eyes wider, forcing a smile. "Yup," she said lowly, then became aware of his proximity and straightened on her own. "Of course!"

He held her at arm's length, watching her, looking to each of her eyes. After a few seconds she shied from him, one hand going to the back of her neck.

"I'm okay, Renji. I bumped heads with Leah earlier on the volleyball court." She patted her hair with her hand. "No damage done."

"Okay. Maybe you should sit down for a while."

"Hai. Yup."

He nodded and gathered the paper, pausing to make sure she sat down on the bed. She gave him a smile, and he went back down the stairs to the kitchen. If Orihime and Leah had knocked heads hard enough to make Orihime nearly faint, he wondered if Leah was passed out on the road somewhere. _Nah, she looked hardy enough,_ he thought.

Ikkaku was seated at the table, already on his second pastry, a glass of water by his napkin. Renji put the newspaper on the table and found a glass in the cupboard.

Ikkaku unfolded the newspaper. "This place feels so dead."

"It is dead."

"I wouldn't be able to tolerate it." Ikkaku frowned over the front page of the paper. "How's your English, Abarai?"

"Better than yours." Renji sat down with a glass of water and took the paper Ikkaku held out to him.

"What's that say?"

Renji looked at the story at the bottom of the front page, eyes narrowing at the headline. "'Attempted Bus Stop Kidnapping,'" he read. He skimmed the story as Ikkaku reached for another donut.

"Debbie makes these?"

_"Leah,"_ Renji said automatically, scowling at the photo of the junior high age girl. "Uh, looks like two men tried to abduct a Chinese girl from a bus stop in Taylor, about sixty miles away. The bus pulled up, and the men fled the scene in a black sedan."

"Chinese?" Ikkaku stuffed another half pastry in his mouth.

Renji nodded. "'Cho Lin Lee said she'd never seen the men before...heightened security in the Taylor schools...Suspects were apprehended several hours later and taken into custody.'" He looked closer at the photo of the girl. Typical Asian, dark hair and eyes. "How are the Kurosaki girls?"

"In hiding." Ikkaku shrugged. "That's all I know. Isshin Kurosaki has made those arrangements, not Tenth Division."

"What about Ishida?"

"Still missing, but that's all anyone knows."

Renji sat back, considering the newspaper photo. Orihime's hair was reddish-brown. Maybe they should dye it black, make her fit in with the stereotype. He recalled the other newspaper article story about the attempted abduction by the gunmen. Those girls had all been dark auburn, without any Asian features.

Two more men apprehended. That made it four.

What the hell was going on?

"Does she make them here? With Orihime?" Ikkaku's attention was on the custard filled donut.

"No; in town at a shop." Renji set the paper aside. "How long are you staying?"

"I've already bested you, so I can leave any time."

"You didn't best me. It was one-for-one. We never finished the third."

"I would have beaten you." Ikkaku munched on the last of the third donut.

Renji stood up. "Come on. You've got enough time to put the wheels on the lawnmower."  


	11. Clay Floor

"You may sit down, Scott."

Mrs. Auden cast a sparse look over the classroom as Scott took his seat. A low chorus of chuckling went through the male population of the class, the girls blushing. Mrs. Auden rose to her full height of a thin five foot four inches.

"There will be no more limericks disguised as sonnets, ladies and gentlemen. In fact," she said, tapping her paperback copy of sonnets on the podium Scott had just vacated, "after Mr. Mullins' attempted venture into the red-light district of poetry, the rest of you may borrow a literary property -- a sonnet, a poem, a collection of haikus," she said, glancing with a smile at Orihime in the second row, "for Monday's readings. We'll be finishing up our oral presentations then, and begin Othello on Tuesday."

Orihime sat back in her desk as Leah leaned across the aisle to her.

"We got out of it," Leah said, smiling. "You don't have to read the one you wrote. You can find something else, if you like."

"Good." Orihime sighed, looking at her paper. "I really didn't want to read mine."

Leah nodded. "I didn't want to read mine, either."

Orihime looked down at the words she'd so carefully penned. They weren't for other ears. Many of them portrayed realizations new even to her.

They'd been there all along, hidden, in the background of her days, out of sight, but never absent. She wasn't sure why it had become more focused lately. Maybe it the headaches. Maybe they made her center a little closer than usual.

She slowly tore the paper into thin strips as the end of class bell broke. Had she been so concentrated on _him_ for so long she couldn't see right beside her?

Of course, Ichigo would always have a spot near and dear to her heart, but lately she found her target centering elsewhere.

"Inoue?" Leah said again as they moved down the crowded hall to their lockers. "You okay?"

"Yup. Okay." Orihime smiled, quickening her pace.

Leah smiled back. "Just checking."

Renji loitered -- yes, _loitered_, according to the neon-smocked traffic Nazi that had told him to _move along_ earlier -- at the large tree across the street from the high school. He'd told her to go back about her business, and she had, but not without a look of promissory comeuppance.

His eyes rested on the black coupe parked beneath the trees at the other side of the main road on the opposite secondary street from the traffic light. It was parked facing the wrong way, and he wondered why the Nazi crossing guard wasn't berating the motorist.

The last bell of the school day sounded, and the students spilled out of the front and side doors, mingling among the buses and waiting cars of parents. He didn't like the side door being open. Too accessible.

He watched Orihime and Leah approach, as he had the last few days. Orihime's jeans and t-shirt were like any other girl's at the school, her hair clipped back in barrettes, her sweater and shoes typical. Matsumoto had done a good job making her blend in. He looked to the brunette girl at Orihime's side. Leah usually said her good-bye and headed to the one-way street that met the road heading out of town, but today she didn't.

Orihime pulled her book bag over her shoulder higher. "Hi!"

"Hi," Renji returned, glancing at Leah. "Hi."

"Hi."

They fell in step together on the sidewalk. He looked over at Leah on the other side of Orihime.

"Are those side doors left unlocked all day?" he asked her.

She looked a little surprised by the question. "No, not from outside. Just unlocked from the inside."

He nodded. "Just wondering."

She nodded slowly.

"Any problems today?" he asked Orihime.

"Nope."

"What about this Scott guy?"

"Nope."

"Good."

They reached the corner of the sidewalk where the school street met the busier Brooklyn-Pierport Street.

"I'll see you Monday," Leah said to Orihime.

"You work today?" Orihime asked, seeing the other girl turn onto the walk leading further into town.

"Yeah." Leah's attention went to Renji. "Bye."

He paused, looking to the black coupe that had inched its way closer to the corner of the street. He could see a man inside, indiscernible at the distance, but with his gaze fixated on Orihime.

He looked back to Leah. "We'll walk you there."

She looked a little taken aback, but smiled. "Okay."

They turned onto the adjoining sidewalk, and out of the corner of his eye Renji saw the black car make the turn also, slowly creeping up as the light changed. He let Orihime and Leah advance a few steps ahead so he could watch them better. He didn't hear what they said, but both were nodding, heads a few inches from each other as they looked at a paper Orihime held.

Renji watched the car pull alongside him, looking into it. The man was in his late twenties, with cropped blond hair, the hand at the steering wheel tattooed up the arm to his black t-shirt sleeve, his eyes on the traffic before him. As soon as the car was even with Renji, it turned off suddenly into a side street opposite, moving slowly down the block. Renji caught up with the girls.

He took Orihime's elbow, making her step quicker. "Don't cross here," he said to Leah.

Her green eyes grew bigger. "I wasn't going to. Oh, I'm working at Manic Groove, not Cake Cottage this afternoon." She pointed and he had to make an effort not to grab her hand and pull it down.

_It didn't really matter if she pointed or not,_ he thought. _Actually, it would be better. A distraction. Any direction other than where Orihime lived._

"She's a prep cook," Orihime said as they turned down the alley behind the row of shops whose fronts lined Main Street.

"You cook there?" he asked Leah, one eye on the black car that had reappeared on the street.

"Not really; just prep stuff and minor cooking. Nothing on the line." She followed his gaze to the car. "Friends of yours?"

Renji's eyes shot to hers. "No. Yours?"

"No one I know." Suspicion crossed her face, and then she nodded to Orihime. "You?"

Orihime shook her head without looking at the car. "Nope."

Renji watched the car slowly pull up to the main traffic light at the four-corners of town. He ushered Orihime down the alley. They followed Leah past the three shops, to the free-standing restaurant's block building.

He glanced down the alley partially blocked by pallets and garbage bins, and then looked up at the restaurant's screened delivery door. "American family casual. What exactly is that?"

Leah paused before the back entrance where the sounds of Nick Gilder's _Hot Child in the City_ were wafting out. "Family favorites. Spaghetti, burgers, casseroles, sandwiches, pizza on the weekends."

Orihime gave the door a curious look. "Is that what American casual sounds like?"

Leah giggled. "Oh. _That_. The owner's real big on seventies and eighties. It's all a twenty-four hour loop recording. There's a Stevie Wonder song at the top of every hour. Kind of a gimmick, but most of the customers like it."

Renji looked to either end of the alley, but the black car didn't cross. He watched Leah pull her hair-tie out and reattached it immediately, her eyes on the back door of the restaurant. "What are you doing Sunday?"

Both Orihime and Leah looked to him.

Leah tightened the tie, glancing from him to Orihime and back again. "Me?"

"Yes, you. Why don't you come with us to the farmers market?"

"Ooh, that's a good idea," Orihime said, smiling.

Leah nodded, a small smile reaching her lips. "Okay. Sure."

Orihime glanced at Renji. "We can pick her up, right?"

"Actually," Leah said, "I work in the morning. At the Cake Cottage."

Renji took a quick glimpse down the alley to the street again. No black car. He looked to Leah. "We'll pick you up there. What time?"

"I'm off at ten."

He nodded slowly. "We'll be there at ten."

"Okay." Leah hitched her book bag on her shoulder, looking to Orihime. "See you then."

"Yup. Bye!"

It was still a fifteen minute walk home and Renji and Orihime started back toward the school. He kept her on the inside of the sidewalk, his attention on the cars passing them.

"I'm glad you invited Leah," Orihime said, waving to Meg across the street escorting two second graders down the walk.

Renji looked to her. "I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

He frowned. "No, I said ..." He thought back on the conversation. "You said it would be a good idea if she came along."

Orihime smiled, raising an eyebrow. "That was after you had invited her, Renji."

He watched a black sports car idle by slowly, the driver turning to look at Orihime as he passed. "I did." He shrugged. "At least we won't get lost in Pierport."

"Uh-huh."

When they reached home -- a word that was making Renji cringe just a little less -- their neighbor, Raider, was hanging over the fence in the yard next door over, smiling, eyes on Orihime's every move on the sidewalk.

"Hey, neighbor!" he called.

Renji's hand closed on Orihime's shoulder as they neared.

Raider, the twenty-something who had tried to borrow a cup of sugar one too many times already, was leaning on what had at one time been a white picket fence. Now it was in need of a paint job, broken in half a dozen places, and sagging in several spots.

"Hi," Orihime returned, but with less enthusiasm.

_Raider_, a term Renji had already decided was self-imposed, was outfitted in his usual camouflage fatigues and black skull t-shirt, cigarette burns spotting the hem, the stench of stale smoke permeating him even from the distance of ten feet.

"How're you liking school, Inoue?"

"None of your business," Renji snapped, prodding Orihime quicker.

"Hey, just talkin' man." Raider rose to his full six feet, grinning at her.

"Beat it," Renji growled as they turned into their driveway, out of sight from the tall hedges. He unlocked the back door of the house and pushed it open.

"He's just being friendly," Orihime said as they went into the kitchen.

"You don't need friends like that." Renji looked around the room, then checked the basement door lock. "I'm taking a look around."

"Okay."

He locked the back door and made his way through the rest of the house. Orihime set her bag on the table and opened the refrigerator's freezer door to see the stack of dinner entrées. She decided on lasagna.

"All set," Renji said when he reappeared a moment later. "You can go on up."

"Thanks."

When she was gone he took a closer look at the box she'd set on the counter. Lasagna. It sounded safe.

Had he really invited Leah? He hadn't meant to. Not really. His concentration had been on the shifty black car that kept passing them on the street.

_No matter,_ he thought. He didn't mind if Leah accompanied them Sunday. He rather liked the idea, and at the same time reproached himself for caring one way or the other.

He looked at the basil plant in the window sill. It leant a rich smell to the kitchen, and was only half-plucked after the basil chicken rolls Orihime and Leah had made a week ago.

Orihime appeared in the doorway, her usually bright expression clouded. "Take a look out my window," she said.

He joined her at the upstairs room.

Out the back window of her bedroom was a view of the small yard and garage, and beyond that the chain link fence that butted up to the back neighbor's yard. Past that was another street at the opposite end of the residential block.

Renji's eyes moved over the black car creeping slowly down the far street, his view of it only intermittent as it wove in and out of sight among the houses, trees, and fences.

He carefully moved Orihime against the wall to the side of the window where she was out of sight. He dropped the blinds and turned the slats so the room was obscured to anyone caring to look in.

"Is it the same car?" she asked, her eyes searching his.

"It looks like it," he admitted, watching the car move down the block and out of sight at the corner. He looked to her. "Keep the blinds down and turned, Inoue."

"Hai."

"I'm going out to look around. Don't go outside."

She nodded.

From his vantage point atop the garage Renji could see nearly the entire block, consisting of twelve homes in a large rectangle three deep. It was the last residential block in town, and from the south out it was the beginning of farm fields. He tightened the obi of his shihakuso absently, eyes scanning the later afternoon traffic on the back streets.

There was no sign of the black car -- or any black car. A few children were playing in the alleys, a few older boys hanging around at the back of a garage smoking something, young girls skipping rope and chanting near a trampoline in one yard. An average afternoon.

He flash stepped across town, studying the side streets and alleys, pausing to look into the alley behind the Manic Groove. No sign of the black car.

Until he made a second pass through town.

Behind the cafe across the main street from the Cake Cottage the black car moved slowly, purposefully, the man inside making a studious survey of the yards. Renji followed from the house tops, unable to get a clear glimpse of the man's face.

The car rounded the block and turned out of town, traveling below the slow speed limit, until it was at the village limits.

A sudden burning at Renji's wrist made him wince. He looked down as the watch's metal backing seared into his skin. So that's what happened at the half mile threshold. Hitsugaya hadn't been too clear on the instructions.

He tolerated the heat until the car was out of sight. As tempted as he was to follow it, he wasn't sure what was happening to Orihime's wrist. She, too, may well be getting branded.

It took only a minute to get back to the house, but Renji took his time, cautious of the car doubling back.

_It could be anyone_, he told himself. _Guys looked at girls all the time. Probably some punk watching Orihime. Or Leah._

Both were attractive.

For a moment his mind settled on Leah. Dark green eyes beneath thick lashes, the way they'd settled on him a few times as they walked her to the restaurant, unlike the way most looked at him in the living world. His thoughts drifted farther, to the faint smell of heliotrope surrounding her, the small smile at her lips when --

_What the hell am I doing?_ he thought, disappointed in himself. _She's a human girl._

_Damn human body,_ he thought. _That was the problem._ Except he wasn't in human form at the moment.

He changed into human form when he reached their garage and unlocked the back door. Orihime looked to him expectantly as she folded a load of clothes at the table.

"Everything's fine." He glanced at the bracelet she wore. "How's your wrist?"

She looked to each wrist. "Okay. Why?"

"Just checking."

Rybak spent Saturday investigating the Morrison High School website. The Freedom of Information Act was a wonderful thing, but it had become less so in the last few years. Schools had become wary of how much student information they listed on the sites now.

He sat in the local cafe, his laptop open before him. He'd learned to use cafes for such chores, especially when he was in the town he was investigating. You never knew when some friendly high school student would wander by and lend a helping hand. Students on the school's newspaper staff were especially inclined to assist.

But he got no such help that afternoon.

He'd already ordered two of the house specials, four cups of coffee, and two pieces of pie, with no help from the customers who had passed his table.

It was too late in the school year to find Orihime Inoue among the class photos on the website and too early for graduation photos. According to his Employer, there was little chance she'd be enrolled under her real Japanese name.

That she'd be in school was a tentative, but viable option. It was this alternative that made Rybak seek his present course.

Entire class photos were becoming scarcer on school websites due to security issues, but these same schools were often eager to show off their scholarship students, athletes, and the occasional foreign exchange student.

He drank the last of his cold coffee, dark eyes on the laptop screen. There were fourteen Japanese exchange students county-wide. Three were listed by name with photos at a school district he'd already searched, none of which resembled his target.

The other eleven were by name only, including Inoue Sakajawa, Nana Orihime, and Inoue Moriyama. Each was at a different school district.

He wrote down the three names on a napkin and looked at them. Surely she wouldn't be going under her name or any variation of it.

He waved over the waitress for his final check.

He'd check them all, of course.

Beneath his lightweight jacket was hidden a shoulder holster, the Glock nine millimeter out of sight. He had no intention of using it. Not on his delicate target.

His hard fingers closed the laptop.

Human or no, the semi-automatic should slow down any bodyguard.

It was only a quarterfinals hockey game, but it lasted for two overtimes, and by then Orihime had went up to her bedroom, and Renji was sleeping on the couch in front of the television.

It was just the click of the back door, a half turn of the knob, and the slight noise shouldn't have waked him, but it did.

Renji sat bolt upright from his slouch on the sofa, attention shooting to the dark kitchen to his right. The TV buzzed lowly, the post game announcers arguing amongst themselves about plays and penalties.

For a fleeting second he wondered if he'd heard anything at all. He stood up, his senses sharpening despite the lazy human factor that plagued him. He glanced at the staircase, hearing nothing from it. He stepped into the kitchen, the only sound coming from the battery operated clock ticking on the wall which read one-thirty-five.

Damn if he hadn't left the katana on his bed. His eyes rested on the back door, and by the time he realized the deadbolt was drawn in, _unlocked_, the locked door knob turned an inch, and then the door was kicked in.

A large man burst in, filling the entryway, clad all in black, no mask, and made an immediate lunge.

Renji caught the hand wielding the large bowie knife and grabbed the man's other arm in a bracing hold that pinned him to the wall. The intruder brought a knee up, right into Renji's ribs still bruised by the spar with Ikkaku. In that instant his hold loosened only minutely, giving the man a split second chance.

The knife flashed, slashing open Renji's t-shirt, barely missing most of him, and Renji took the moment to grab the wrist in a hold that sent the man to his knees, dropping the knife. Renji twisted the arm, maneuvering behind the intruder, pulling the arm to his back, hearing the shoulder socket pop. He drove him to the kitchen floor, settling on his back, one knee on his free arm.

"Who are you with?" Renji demanded.

The man's face was in burning contact on the floor, his eyes wide. It was the first clear look Renji had of the man in the black car from Friday. He pushed his other hand on the back of the man's head.

"One more time, who do you work for?"

The man made a grunting noise. "Go to hell!"

"Last chance," Renji said, shoving the arm up farther, hearing the man's breath escape him at the movement. "Nothing?"

"No one," the man said, voice labored.

Renji braced his knee harder on the man's crooked arm and put both hands on his chin and head. With a swift movement he jerked quickly, snapping the man's neck. The intruder's head lolled limply.

Renji looked around the floor and found the dropped knife. He took it and pulled the man's flaccid head up, bringing a string of curses from him. Renji flipped the knife edge up and brought the nine-inch blade across the man's throat, severing cleanly.

He stood up as the blood oozed onto the white and black checkered floor. He found a pile of dish towels in a drawer and knelt to cushion them under the dying man's head, absorbing the blood seeping out.

He rose and went to the back door, closing it, locking the still functional deadbolt despite the damaged knob lock. For thirty seconds he watched the life seep out of the man on the floor in the dark, estimating his age in the late twenties. He knelt and felt for a pulse at the severed jugular.

Satisfied the intruder was dead, Renji made his way past the TV still playing the post game show and up the staircase. Orihime's bedroom was quiet and untouched at the end of the hallway, the door shut. He frowned. She usually left it open a few inches.

He turned the knob, finding it locked. For a tense second he debated, and then gripped the knob, turning it until the lock broke, and then opened the door.

In the filtered light of the moon the room was nearly dark. Then a perfectly executed high kick made contact with Renji's nose before he had time to block.

"Ha!"

Orihime recoiled and balled her fists clutched in front of her, her vague silhouette outlined in the dim moonlight, and sent a roundhouse kick to his chest.

Renji caught her heel before the movement was completed. "Orihime!"

"Oops!"

"Shit, girl, would you stop?!" He dropped her foot to put a hand to his nose burning in pain. "Are you all right?"

"Ah, yes, Abarai-san," she said, slipping into Japanese, bowing deeply. "I'm sorry, but --"

"Stop with the formalities." He grimaced, glancing around the room. "Shit, Orihime, are you sure you're okay?"

"Hai."

Renji moved farther into the room, his nose stinging fiercely, looking out the window blinds, which were flipped nearly shut. Nothing stirred in the yard below. No dogs barking, no cats slinking to garbage cans. He looked back to Orihime.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He glanced over her pajamas of silk shorts and matching camisole of indeterminate color in the dark. "Yes."

"I'm sorry, Renji." She stepped closer, looking to the slit in his shirt. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing."

"What happened down there?" She went to the closet and fumbled inside for a robe.

"A break-in. Stay here." He started to leave, but she caught up with him.

"I'm not staying up here on my own, Renji. I'll go with you."

He shook his head as they went down the hall to the staircase. "I've got to get rid of this guy."

"I'll help."

"I don't need any help."

They descended the staircase and headed to the kitchen, but he blocked her from seeing into it. "It's a mess, Orihime. Just stay out here."

She put her hands on her hips, making the untied robe open across her. "I've been to Soul Society, Renji. I've seen my share of blood."

He nodded in agreement, eyes flicking over her pajamas. "Okay. But tie that thing shut, will you?"

She glanced down at her robe. "Oh. Oops."

It took half an hour to dig a hole large enough to bury the body six feet deep in the garage's clay floor. Orihime sat in the nylon lawn chair nearby, her eyes on the corpse that'd been covered by a bed sheet, only a minute bit of blood at one end.

The truck was parked close to the garage door, and Renji had pulled it half shut, open just enough so he could see the back door to the house.

"Orihime," he said as the flashlight beam wandered away from the hole and to the dead man for the third time. He took a moment to climb out.

She angled the flashlight back to him. "Sorry."

He set the shovel against the garage wall. The basement of the house had rendered a few needed oddities, such as the chair and shovel, but little else to facilitate a burial.

"I'll take it," he said, reaching for the flashlight.

"Who do you think he is?"

"I don't know. Doubt there'll be much ID on him." He knelt beside the corpse with the flashlight and pulled back the sheet. He hadn't searched the body yet, moving it out of the kitchen as quickly as possible in an effort to save the tile flooring from becoming bloodstained.

He searched the pockets of the man's black fatigues, finding nothing. The black tee shirt was covered by a pocketed vest, and Renji examined each pocket, finding a stiletto and a smaller tactical knife in two separate compartments. In a vest pocket he found one other item; a small slip of paper with five-digit number written in black ink. It took a moment for him to realize it was Brooklyn's zip code.

_So it wasn't just home invasion,_ he thought. He glanced to Orihime sitting in the chair, her legs crossed, the robe covering most of her as she watched him.

"Find anything?" she asked.

Renji stuck the slip of paper in a pocket of his jeans. "No identification." He looked at the tattoo laced up the man's right arm. _"Live hard die fast"_ it read in fanciful italics. _Well, the man had accomplished that much._

There was no watch on the man's wrists, but there was a simple metal band on his left. It was flat and seamless, which struck Renji as odd, and too small to fit over the man's hand. The polished metal was a dull gray, and seemed to hold no significance.

"Nothing," he told Orihime, moving the light from the body and standing. He handed the flashlight back to her.

Her eyes rested on the rip in his t-shirt. "Are you hurt?"

"No." _Not really. Just barely a scratch, actually, itching more than anything,_ he thought. He rolled the corpse into the freshly dug hole. _Dammit, but the clay had been hard digging._ For once he was glad the garage floor wasn't cement.

It took fifteen minutes to fill in the hole and smooth the dirt over. When they got back into the house Renji spent an additional five minutes searching the place, paying special attention to the windows in Orihime's room. He couldn't see Raider's house from either window, but the neighbor on the other side was visible. They'd never seen those neighbors, but according to the paperwork from Tenth Division, they were an elderly couple who were in Florida for the winter, and hadn't returned yet.

"All set," he told Orihime as she stood in the center of the room.

She nodded slowly. "What about the back door?"

"The dead bolt is still usable. I'll replace the door tomorrow."

"After the farmers market?"

He groaned. He'd forgotten it was Sunday tomorrow. "I'll figure something out, Orihime. Don't worry about it."

"Okay." She attempted a timid smile. "Thanks, Renji. I'm sorry for kicking you."

He nodded. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He fetched the katana from his room and went back to the kitchen. He took another look at the tile flooring, but didn't switch on the overhead light. So far the invasion had gone unnoticed by the neighbors, and he wanted to keep it that way. There were no evident stains on the black and white flooring.

He examined the back door, checking the dead bolt. The door would have to be replaced, and perhaps the door frame, too. He'd get a better look at it in the daylight. He pulled one of the kitchen chairs to the door and sat in front of it, resting his back on the damaged door.

Soul Society would need to hear of the encounter. Hitsugaya would want a full report. So would Second Division. He could imagine the paperwork on _this_ assignment.

He turned the katana in his hand, watching the long blade gleam in the moonlight from the window over the sink. His fingers found the slit in his shirt. The shallow cut had barely bled and didn't need any attention. He made a face, his nose still tender. Orihime's kick, however, was another story.

So now they had a door to repair, and a burial in the garage.

Five down. Renji sighed. Were there more? How many? And who had given this one Brooklyn's zip code?

He thought he knew the answer.


	12. Communication Error

Sam placed the tray of oblong pastries on the prep table by the cake donuts Leah was dipping in sugar wash before rolling in a bin of crushed peanuts.

"These are like bricks, Leah." He took her hand and put one of the heavy long chocolate iced donuts in it. "They're overweight by a whole ounce."

She frowned at the cream filled pastry. "I don't know why."

"You obviously double-filled them. What's on your mind?"

She picked up another one of the weighty donuts, groaning. Sam was right. She looked to Mrs. Simons in the shop's front room, waiting on an elderly couple.

"Nothing. Should I redo them?"

"No. There're no extra yeast blanks. Don't worry about it. The customers are getting their money's worth today." He removed his white apron and studied her. "So, what's up? You party late last night, or something?"

"No." She finished the peanut donuts.

"No? What is it, then? A boy?"

She sent him a dirty look, arranging the donuts in a double line on the tray.

He grinned. "I see. Thomas, again?"

"He was _so_ last summer, Sam."

"Then who?" He washed his hands at the small sink near the back door. "Anyone I know?"

Leah sighed. "Of our four mutual acquaintances, Sam? No." She wiped her hands on the damp dish towel nearby. "What should I do with these?"

"Put 'em back out. Rose said to use them. She just wanted you to be aware of it. That's all."

She looked uneasily at the owner in the front of the shop. "How mad is she?"

"Not much."

Sam was right. When Leah took the tray of cream filled pastries, Rose merely smiled and shook her head, but added a _"Watch, dear"_ as Leah returned to the back room. She arranged a row of powdered cinnamon donuts next to the peanut ones on the tray as Sam hovered out the back door, smoking a cigarette in the alley.

_What the heck is wrong with me?_ she thought, scooting the donuts into neat rows. _Double filling the donuts?_ She hadn't done that since her first week at the bakery. She looked up at the clock over the sink. Ten o'clock on the dot. She'd gotten used to the Stevie Wonder songs marking the top of the hours at Manic Groove, and sometimes lost track of time at the Cake Cottage. Not today.

She stripped off the burgundy apron as Sam stepped into the back room from his break. "I'm out of here." She washed her hands at the sink as he tied his apron back on.

"Sure you don't want to stick around and finish this next batch?"

"Yup." She punched out her card at the time clock near the apron pegs and took off her pink blouse. She smoothed the pale green knit top she wore underneath, straightening a turned cap sleeve. She shook out the blouse and hung it over the apron, wiping the traces of donut sprinkles from her khaki cargo shorts, and then looked to the shop's front door. "There's my ride."

Sam looked through the wide window between the front and back rooms. He grinned at Orihime's form passing through the front door. "Oh. You know _her_?"

"She's a friend. Be nice." Leah sat down on the stool beneath the pegs and changed her sugar dusted shoes for a pair of sandals. She put the shoes under the stool. "See you later, Sam."

The baker was leaning over the work table, a pile of dough before him. He looked past Orihime as she waved at Leah from the counter, spotting Renji in the blue truck at the curb. "That's your ride, Leah? You sure you're hanging around with the right crowd?"

"Watch it, Sam." She took her hair-tie out and ran a hand through the dark hair. "He'd snap you in half in a heartbeat."

"Hmph."

Leah grabbed the white bag of donuts she'd set aside earlier and joined Orihime at the counter. "Hi."

"Hi."

Leah looked apologetically at Rose behind the display counter. "I'm sorry about the Bismarcks, Mrs. Simons."

"It's okay."

"Thanks."

"Hey, we match," Orihime said, pulling at the hem of her green shirt a few shades darker than Leah's.

"Yup. I hope you like lemon." She held up the bag.

Orihime nodded.

When they got to the truck Renji was looking at the stores across Main Street, most of which were closed for the day. He looked to the passenger door as Orihime climbed in the cab and Leah after her.

"Hi," he said to them.

"Hi," Leah said. She pulled the door shut and handed the bag to Orihime. "Lemon poppy seed cake."

"Mmm." Orihime opened the bag to see the three donuts.

Renji eased the truck into the lane after a break in the lazy Sunday morning traffic. He'd looked at the directions to Pierport in the phone directory, but all he could distinguish was that he made a right at the traffic light ahead.

"Should we eat them now or later?" Orihime asked, eyes still on the pastries.

"Now, I guess," Leah said.

"Is there a hardware store in Pierport?" Renji asked as the truck made the right turn at the green traffic light.

Leah nodded. "But it probably closes early, being a Sunday."

"We'll go there first."

Orihime handed a donut each to Leah and Renji and folded the bag flat in her lap. The truck passed their house on the right as it headed south out of Brooklyn, and he glanced at it, seeing Raider waved from his front yard.

"These are good," Orihime said, looking at her donut.

"They're one of our best sellers on Sundays." Leah looked out the window at the crops starting at the edge of town. "This is only the second weekend the farmers market has been open, so it'll be busy."

"The restaurant you work at," Renji said, finishing his donut, "they shop there, too?"

"No. They have produce delivered. Most of the suppliers at the market have year-round hothouses. Some come up from Ohio." Leah watched Orihime pick a crumb off her rose colored capris. "Have you decided on a poem for Mrs. Auden's class yet?"

Orihime nodded, munching on the last of her donut. "I think I'll do something from _Tamamo__, the Fox Maiden_. I remember part of it."

"You're going to recite? You'll get extra points for that," Leah said. She pushed her hair to one side, wishing she'd left it up in a ponytail.

A mile from the town limits of Pierport the farmland changed to residential, slowly at first, a few houses with some acreage, and then developed into small neighborhoods. It was at one of these first houses that Orihime felt a strange draw, as if someone had called her name, unheard by either Leah or Renji.

She looked to the small stone house separated from the ones surrounding it by a line of thick spruce trees. There was nothing remarkable about it; a simple house with a single car garage behind it. Her eyes stayed on it as the truck passed. The sign in the front yard marked it as For Sale.

She looked to Renji, who was also looking at the house. His attention went to her.

"Did you see something?" he asked in a low tone, aware Leah was watching them both.

"No. Did you?" she asked, tempted to inquire in Japanese.

He shook his head.

"But I felt something," she said softly, in Japanese this time.

He nodded, his eyes now on the road ahead of them. "Me, too."

"Something familiar."

"Who?"

"Not _him_." Orihime sighed, wishing her spiritual powers were restored. Aizen had seen to exhausting _that_ before she'd been rescued. It made her feel useless. "But it was familiar."

Leah was looking at the house now behind them. She turned back in the seat. "Do you know who lived there?"

"No." Renji asked, slipping back into English, hoping she wouldn't ask about the exchange. He returned her curious look. "Do you?"

"No. It's been for sale for a while, I think."

He nodded. Pierport was well-marked with a welcome sign and the standard community sponsor board at the city limits, and from there the sidewalks started on either side of the road and the houses were closer together. It was a larger town then Brooklyn, but not by much. Renji stopped the truck at the first red traffic light in town, looking to the next light two blocks ahead where the town's main two streets crossed.

"Where's the hardware store?" he asked Leah.

She looked at him quizzically. "Right at the next light."

He nodded.

"You're not from around here, are you?" she asked.

Orihime's eyes shot from her to him, and then back on the street as the light turned green.

Renji's hand tightened on the steering wheel. _Maybe they should just tell her the truth. How bad could it be? She'd freak out and then it would be over. On the other hand,_ he thought as they truck pulled away from the traffic light, _she may abandon Orihime altogether. Americans weren't real big on Soul Reaper legacies. And even if she did tell anyone, who'd believe her story?_

"No. Not lately." _Was there a worse way to have put that,_ he wondered as they approached the next intersection. "It's been a while."

He made a right turn at the green traffic light and the town shops clustered closer along the main thoroughfare.

"Didn't your parents move here recently?" Orihime asked helpfully.

He nodded, grinning at her in thanks. "Yeah. Recently."

Leah pointed to the hardware store on the right side of the four lane street. "That's it. Where did you move in from?"

_Dammit, _he thought_. If they told her the truth now, she couldn't run away. Not really. It was seven miles back to Brooklyn. Think, Renji._

"Jasper," he said. It was the only town that came to mind.

"Oh," Leah said as the truck turned into the hardware store's parking lot. "Because I didn't see you in any of the old yearbooks." She looked to him quickly, a blush touching her cheeks. "I mean, my brother's old yearbooks."

"Oh, does he go to school in Brooklyn, too?" Orihime asked as Renji parked the truck and turned off the engine.

"No. He did, but he graduated two years ago."

For a moment Orihime stared at Renji, her look silently inquiring about _something_. He shook his head, his mind treading the same course as hers.

"Not yet." He looked to Leah. "Let's go."

It took ten minutes to find a door that matched the measurements of the back door Renji was replacing, primarily because they didn't have any measurements. The house had been devoid of a tape measure, but there was a ball of twine, and he'd resorted to cutting two pieces of the string to fit the measurements of the door.

The salesman gave him an odd look, but found a door to specifications. After finding an additional deadbolt lock set and a few other pieces of hardware, they were back in the truck.

Leah turned in her seat to look in the truck bed as they waited for an opening in traffic to make a left turn back into the thick of town. She turned around.

"Why do you need a new door? Did you get robbed?"

Renji's knuckles were white around the steering wheel, muttering curses at the heavy traffic. "The neighbor's dog tore up the other door."

Orihime nodded vigorously. "It's a huge dog. Like a pony. Big teeth."

"You didn't get bit, did you?" Leah asked her as the truck joined the street traffic.

"Oh, no." She put a hand to the back of her neck, mumbling a _'sorry'_ as Leah dodged an elbow at the movement. "No one got bit."

They found the farmers market located at a side street closed off for the event on the other side of town. It was located near the town park, a small lot with a gazebo and a few benches. At one corner was an area barricaded with straw bales and pens where a petting farm display showcased small animals. From it came the bleat of goat kids and lambs, and an occasional squawk of ducks in a kiddy swimming pool. A small temporary stage was set up and a thin crowd had already gathered where three men in cowboy hats and western vests were playing instruments while a fourth sang his rendition of Dwight Yokum's _Fast as You_.

The blocked-off street was lined with vendors in tent stalls and stands, the smells of various foodstuffs and the petting farm mingling. Wagons and baskets were piled with produce, while other craftsmen were displaying jewelry and handicrafts. Moving through the midst were two politicians trying to hand out literature and a clown with a fistful of helium-filled balloons on strings.

Renji parked the truck at the municipal lot a block away and they got out to walk back. He looked around at the crowd already on the sidewalks heading for the market.

He hadn't yet decided whether it was going to be a security nightmare or a leisure afternoon.

The music got louder as they got closer, and the eager politicians -- one on either side of the entrance from the back of the street -- descended on pedestrians entering the market. Renji ignored them, as did Orihime and Leah, and they waded into the throng.

Orihime looked with interest to the second display, a table set up with glass jars of homemade preserves. The young girl behind the table was of junior high age, and she smiled, then looked at Renji with confusion, and smiled even bigger.

"Hi. My name is Mindy and my sister and I make all our own strawberry jams. Would you like to try some?" Mindy asked. Behind her was another younger girl who was staring at Renji, holding a blue balloon tightly, a rainbow painted on her cheek. On the sidewalk farther back was a woman holding a toddler, watching them tiredly.

And that was how it started. From there it was jams, and salsas, home-canned blueberry pie filling and mini pumpkin tartlets, homemade soaps and scented bath oils with waxed coated caps.

Renji hung back, watching Orihime and Leah investigate each table or canopied stall, his attention on the perimeter of the crowds and the clown who was continuously laughing at his own poor jokes. They had only moved halfway down the first side of the street when he found himself shelling out money for a jar of jam and a cake of soap.

"Look at these," Orihime said, holding up a pair of blue earrings at one table displaying jewelry. The blue beads glistened in the noonday sun. The music had changed several times, and now it was _Leaving Louisiana in the Broad Daylight_. 

"Ooh, they match your bracelet." Leah nodded at Orihime's wrist. "Perfect."

Orihime was looking elsewhere, her brown eyes searching the shifting mass of people moving along the side street. "Did you hear anything?"

Leah looked around, and then to Renji, who was watching them. "No. Just the music and people. What did you hear?"

"Oh. Nothing." Orihime glanced to the far end of the street where it opened onto the main street.

Leah glanced that way, and back to Renji. She stepped closer to Orihime as they inspected another set of earrings. "What does he do?"

"Who? Renji?"

"Yeah. You know, for a job."

Orihime sent a look his way, and then smiled. "Security. Yup. That's what you'd call it."

Leah nodded slowly, averting her eyes when Renji caught her stare. "Like a security guard somewhere?"

"Yes. That's it."

"Well, that would explain a lot. Do the Smiths leave you alone a lot with him?" It didn't come out exactly the way Leah wanted it to.

"Oh, no. Not really." Orihime thought furiously for something convincing to say. "Mrs. Smisu is taking Mr. Smisu to the airport today. He has a business trip."

"Oh, I see." She watched Orihime search the crowds around them. "What are you looking for, Inoue?"

Orihime shook her head. "Just, I don't know. Nothing, I guess."

Leah looked around the street as they moved on to the other side where most of the produce was being sold. The first stall was mostly perishables, such as green beans, beets, scallions, and bunches of radishes. Orihime selected some of each, and Renji found himself carrying two bags to the next table. This time it was farm produce of another sort, and he added a bag with two cartons of a dozen eggs apiece to one hand.

"Honey," Orihime breathed as they approached the next stand. She looked up at the sign. "Blue Bee Honey Farm." She pointed to the table set with paper plates. "What's that?"

Leah looked closer at the plates of desert samples. "Baklava."

Orihime giggled. "_Byakuda_?"

Renji's attention snapped to where they were hovering over the table.

"Baklava," Leah said again.

"Have a sample," the elderly woman behind the table offered, holding up a paper plate. "Fresh made from our own honey, from our own hives."

Orihime nodded, taking a plate. "Thank you. Ooh," she said, sampling it. "Very sweet."

Leah handed a plate to Renji, who switched the bags to one hand to take it.

"You know what would be good in this?" Orihime said, studying the desert of layered phyllo and honey.

Leah had learned to cringe at those words. "Raisins?" she said hopefully.

"Sweet bean paste." Orihime nodded. "Yup. Hey, do you make an pan at the cake shop?"

Leah shook her head, swallowing her bite. "I don't think so."

"Hmm. Could you make this with sweet bean paste?" she asked, holding up the plate.

Leah shrugged slowly. "I guess so. Substitute some of the honey, I guess."

Orihime nodded. "Can we get some honey, Renji?"

A jar of honey later they were at another stall selling dried beans, much to Orihime's delight, and they bought two pounds of azuki beans for an attempt at an baklava.

Renji wasn't sure it was a good idea, but Orihime seemed happy about it, and they walked back to the truck to drop off the purchases before finishing the rest of the vendors.

He looked to Orihime, and then to Leah, who was watching him. Her eyes went from his wrist, where the watch was hanging loosely so it wouldn't press against the nickel size burn on his skin, to the welt near it still blue from the spar with Ikkaku. This time she didn't look away, her eyes locking on his.

"Did you get into a fight?" she asked.

He frowned, glancing to Orihime. She looked back to the people on the sidewalk ahead of them.

"No."

Leah tilted her head, studying him. "Are you sure?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She withdrew half a step at the question. "Nothing. Sorry. It just looks like ..." She shook her head.

They walked in silence a moment before he put a hand to his nose. It was still tender, but he didn't think it looked bruised. Actually, there was a minor amount of bruising, and it was only under one eye. Hardly noticeably.

"It wasn't a fight," he said.

"Oh." Leah looked to Orihime, who wore a small smile. She glanced back to Renji. "Did you win?"

He sighed, grinning slowly as she began to smile. He shifted the bags in his hand. "Of course I won."

They stowed the bags in the shadier side of the truck bed and headed back into the market. They spent the next hour looking over the potted herb plants, of which Renji bought an opal basil variety, and several bunches of packaged greens more recognizable to them.

Leah paused as they halted at the stall of summer squash and peppers set out in peck size baskets, following Orihime's gaze. The Japanese girl's eyes wandered over the crowd, searching, hoping. She looked to Renji to find him looking around, too.

She wasn't imagining it. Each was definitely looking for someone or something. She glanced around, but didn't see anything amiss. She didn't see anyone else returning their stares either. Maybe it was just Renji's nature.

_But it didn't excuse Inoue,_ she thought. She looked back to him. At first she thought the slight dark around his left eye was a shadow in the truck cab, but in the direct light of the afternoon she knew it was bruising.

It was a few more minutes before she realized the heavy stare of someone from the other side of the market, near the politicians' stands. It was more the fact that he didn't move in the bustling street than anything else.

"Do you think these are hot?" Orihime asked, holding up a small green pepper as Leah glanced down the street.

Leah looked back to the peppers. "Hmm? Oh, jalapeños? They're hot." She glanced down the street to the Japanese boy with the slender build, his dark hair uncommon in the milling crowd, his pensive stare on Orihime.

After a moment Orihime looked up from the peppers, first to Renji, who was looking at the opposite end of the market street, and then to where Leah's attention was fixed. Her eyes grew wider, her hand dropping the peppers back into the basket.

"Ishida-san," she murmured softly.

Leah looked to her. "Who?" She stood on tiptoe to see the Japanese youth better. "You know him?"

Orihime could only nod slowly, a smile crossing her face. "I knew it was familiar." She looked to Renji. "Ishida-san is here."

Renji followed her attention to the end of the street, but the figure had moved on. "I don't see him," he said after a moment.

Orihime searched the crowded street, but he was lost in the shifting crowds. "I saw him. So did Leah."

He looked to the brunette girl. Leah wasn't sure what to say.

"I saw a Japanese boy down there," she said, pointing to where the politicians were hounding people. "But he's gone now."

Renji scanned the jostling crowd as Orihime made her own scrutiny. Leah looked around, but saw no one familiar. Renji looked back to Orihime.

"It's impossible," he said.

"I felt him, Renji," she said, frowning, eyes still moving over the crowd. "It must be him."

"It can't be," he insisted. He watched the mass of people for a moment. "This is the last place he'd be. No one knows you're here." He saw Leah's puzzled expression and added lowly to Orihime: "Only Soul Society knows exactly where you are. No one else."

She nodded, a pout starting at her lips. "You're right. I must be mistaken."

Renji paid for the peppers and squash Orihime had picked out from the farmer's baskets and they started back to the truck. His search of the crowds continued. There was no reason Uryû Ishida would be in Brooklyn. He knew the Quincy had been scarce in Karakura Town, and even Tokyo, but that didn't mean the boy was actually _gone_.

He watched the clown circulating among the market goers as Orihime and Leah turned on the sidewalk leading to where they'd parked the truck a block away. American clowns were creepy. A lot of the kids didn't appear to like the colorful guy either, judging from the way they shied from the balloon wielding oddity.

They stowed most of their purchases in the back of the truck and got in the cab. After a few long moments of working through the backstreet pedestrian traffic, they were on their way back to Brooklyn.

At the edge of town Orihime glanced at the stone house as they came up to it. She wanted a better look at it, which was partly why she wanted the window seat. It was a plain house, with a small porch and yard, two-story, but the second floor inside would consist mostly of angled walls, allowing little living space.

She knew it wasn't Ichigo's reiatsu she'd felt earlier, but it was definitely someone's. She sighed, pulling the plastic bag of peppers and squash on her lap closer. Perhaps she hadn't seen Ishida at the market, but it certainly seemed like she had. She'd felt _something_ there.

She looked to Renji, who was watching her. Leah sat straighter between them to see what held their attention out Orihime's window. She repositioned the bag of squash she held in front of her, her elbow catching Renji's ribs.

He grunted at the jab, putting his free hand to the spot.

"Sorry."

"Not you." He rubbed the tender area that was doubly bruised, looking from her to the road ahead.

"Was that from Charlie or the fight you didn't have?"

He shrugged. "A little of both."

She nodded and looked to Orihime. "Who did you think you saw at the market?"

"Oh, well, I thought," Orihime said slowly, "I thought it was someone I knew. From the United Youth Exchange Program." She smiled, perking up. "That's who I thought it was." She looked to the bag on her lap. "Maybe we could make the pepper cups like we did in class last week."

Leah nodded. "With burger, or...something else?"

Orihime considered this. "Like what?"

Renji thought Orihime's story was believable, but he sincerely doubted she'd seen Ishida. The girls' talk turned to peppers and what could be stuffed into them for a dinner dish.

When they got to the house, however, a dark green Jeep was parked in the driveway. Renji slowed the truck before he turned into the driveway, frowning at the new vehicle, until Matsumoto appeared at the back of the house. Raider was hanging over his side of the hedges, obviously standing on something to see the woman. He waved to the truck as it paused on the street, but his greeting went unnoticed.

Renji pulled the truck into the drive, feeling Leah's knee move away from his leg as her eyes went to the busty woman standing near the Jeep.

"Who's that?" she asked.

Orihime looked to Renji, whose focus was on the strawberry blonde.

He stopped the truck and put it into park. "Gwen," he finally said. He looked to Leah. "My sister."

Orihime nodded. "That's right. Gwen. I remember her."

Leah looked to the woman, who appeared to resemble Orihime more than Renji. She was dressed in a pair of hemmed jean shorts and a loose fitting unbuttoned flower print shirt, tied at her waist over a yellow tank top. "Sister?"

Renji nodded, grinning. "Older sister."

They got out and Matsumoto met them at the truck. She looked to Leah, smiled, and then to Orihime and Renji.

"Hey, you're home."

Renji nodded. "Hello, _Gwen_. This is Inoue's friend from school, Leah." He gestured to Matsumoto. "My older sister, Gwen."

Matsumoto shot him a sour look as he went to the truck bed and collected the packages. She shook Leah's hand, looking her over. "Leah? Hmm, I thought your name was Debbie."

Renji groaned. "Charlie got it wrong."

"Hi," Leah said, holding her bag of produce closer as they moved to the back of the house.

Matsumoto fell in step beside Orihime. "How do you like American school, Inoue?"

"Oh, I do."

Renji got to the back door before them to find it unlocked and open. A brief second of alarm came over him, until Matsumoto took one of the bags from him.

"I already went in. Looked around. Didn't find anyone." She smiled at his relief. "I couldn't imagine where you'd gotten off to."

He nodded and held the door for Orihime and Leah to enter the house. Leah looked to the heavier inside door that still showed damage from the attack the night before.

She glanced to Orihime. "The dog did _that_?"

Orihime giggled nervously. "Oh. Yes. It was a huge dog."

"I guess so."

They put the bags on the table and Leah set hers to one side by the damaged door. Orihime glanced from Renji to Matsumoto. She looked to Leah.

"Come upstairs. I'll show you the piece I'm using for Mrs. Auden's class."

Leah nodded, looking to Matsumoto before following Orihime.

"Gwen could be your sister, Inoue," Renji and Matsumoto heard Leah say as the girls left the kitchen.

Matsumoto looked to Renji with her arms crossed in front of her, which only added volume to her shirts. "Gwen? _Older_ sister?"

He grinned. "I could have said mother."

She rolled her eyes. "Sister is better. I thought her name was Debbie or Meg. That's what Ikkaku's report said."

He shook his head and opened the refrigerator to find two cans of soda. He tossed her one. "Ikkaku got it wrong."

"Speaking of reports, are you keeping up your paperwork?"

"Of course."

"In triplicate?"

"Sort of. I'll make the third copy when I get back to Soul Society."

She sat at the table and opened the soda, frowning at it. "Is this it? Nothing stronger?"

"Not at the moment." He leaned against the sink counter, looking at the Japanese-to-German guide book on the table. "Who's going to Germany?"

"I am." She sat back in her chair. "I'm taking Tatsuki Arisawa into protective custody."

"What's Aizen been up to? Making moves on Karakura Town?"

"Not that Soul Society has noticed, which is suspicious. Just a precaution." She drank the cherry cola, making a face at the blandness. "Why haven't you been calling in your weekly reports?"

He scowled. "I was told to use the communicator only in emergencies."

She looked to the door. "It looks like you've had an emergency, Abarai."

"I took care of it."

"You still should have reported it." Her fingers drummed on the table. "You haven't been returning Soul Society communiqués."

He shook his head. "What are you talking about? I haven't been contacted."

"Captain Hitsugaya sent you two in the last forty-eight hours, and Captain Soi Fon two last week. That's why I'm here."

"To check up on us?"

"Captain Hitsugaya said to swing by here and take a look before I go to Germany with Tatsuki." She raised an eyebrow accusingly. "What have you been up to, Abarai? Too many of Orihime's friends on your mind?"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he growled. "I haven't gotten any incoming messages from Soul Society."

Matsumoto took her communicator from her front pocket and punched a few buttons. Renji waited for his to beep from his back pocket, but there was nothing.

She frowned at the device. "There's no signal. That's odd. I tried calling you several times earlier and there was a signal. Yours must be faulty. Or maybe there's interference."

He took his from his pocket and looked at it. "This place is a black hole of spiritual power. Maybe there's something interfering with the transmissions, too."

She closed up her communicator. "Maybe they need to be reprogrammed for the region."

He nodded, watching her sip the cola. "How is Rukia?"

"Fine. She said to say hello."

He watched a twinge of sadness pass over her blue eyes for a moment. "Have you heard anything? From him?"

Matsumoto didn't try to pretend she didn't know what he was talking about. "That's the past, Abarai. Some things should stay in the past."

"I didn't think you were giving up."

"I've been fooled enough. Why should I fool myself?"

He nodded, deciding there was little he could say about Gin Ichimaru that Matsumoto hadn't already thought about or cried over.

She shook the half full can of soda slowly, making the contents slosh from side to side. She set it down and stood up, putting one hand on a curvy hip. She cocked her head to one side as she looked to him.

"So, what've you got buried in the garage, Renji?"


	13. Spider Bite

Ishida started the seven mile walk to Brooklyn at seven-thirty that morning. The woman who had worked the farmers' market stall for Blue Bee Honey Farm had been helpful. When he stopped by the table of honey jars Sunday, yesterday -- the general vicinity he'd last seen Orihime that afternoon -- he couldn't find her. He'd searched the entire market for two hours and there was no sign of Orihime Inoue anywhere.

But the woman at the honey stand remembered her.

"Yes, the Japanese girl," the woman had recalled for Ishida when he inquired that afternoon as the vendors began packing up to leave for the day. "Japanese girl and the guy with the red hair. And damn if he didn't have tattoos."

_Abarai?_ Ishida had thought. _What was Orihime doing with him? _Obviously Soul Society was involved.

"I didn't catch her name," the woman had said, "but she was with one of the girls who works for a restaurant we supply."

And then the rest had trickled out. The restaurant was Manic Groove in Brooklyn, and the girl was Lyn, or Leah, or Lisa. The woman couldn't remember which. It was enough for Ishida to go on.

_An American girl?_ he thought. Maybe Orihime had a pen pal in the area.

Two miles into the walk his bags were getting heavy. The late April day was warmer than the season should have allowed, and he wished he'd had the money for cab fare. It was well beyond his financial means, any sort of paid transportation.

Memories of her tremulous brown eyes floated through his mind as he came up on another newly planted corn field. Seeing Orihime through Soul Society had given him a different glimpse into her, alternately exposing her vulnerability and strengths when they'd faced such high odds of accomplishing _anything_ there. He smiled, recalling her resolute dedication to her friends.

Especially one friend. He frowned, slinging a bag strap over his shoulder higher, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Orihime's undying devotion to Ichigo was admirable, he had to admit, but also futile when the stupid hero was indifferent to her feelings.

His hand tightened on his bag. In a way Ichigo's disinterest in Orihime's affections angered him when he saw how much it saddened her. At the same time, the last thing he wanted was for the orange haired guy to return her affections. That was nearly the last thing he wanted to see happen.

A foul smell met his nose and it took another two minutes of walking to realize the mound of rotting flesh, hair, and bone ahead was a deer carcass. He made a wide trek around it, the stench of the bloated animal accompanied by a horde of flies.

In his pocket was the hair pins and slip of paper. He still didn't know what the fourteen written on it meant, nor did he know who'd left it for him. There were few options. 

The sounds of a large truck approaching from the road behind him grew louder, and then changed as it downshifted into a lower gear. Ishida looked over as the semi-truck slowed and stopped, its diesel engine rattling loudly. He halted and glanced back at the long tractor trailer stacked with felled trees a meter wide.

"Hey!" came from the open window in the door.

Ishida looked up at the red door reading _'Tri-County Hardwoods'_ on the side. He reached for the latch at the lower part of the door, and hesitantly opened it, which took a forceful jerk.

Inside a man sat in the driver seat, a cowboy hat with the sides rolled on his head and dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. "You wanna ride, son?"

Ishida looked the truck cab over, the reek of stale cigarette smoke rolling out. "I'm going to Brooklyn."

"SoamI," it sounded like to Ishida. "Get in."

Ishida didn't equivocate. He climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut. The large truck eased into motion again.

Ishida adjusted his glasses, looking the driver over again. The man was thin, hands wrapped around the huge steering wheel, a half burnt cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"How much will this cost?" Ishida wasn't sure about accepting unplanned rides. _Was it proper to tip?_ he wondered.

"Cost? Huh? No." The man shifted into another gear and the sounds of the truck engine dropped. "What's in Brooklyn for ya?"

Ishida cleared his throat, pulling his bags closer on his lap. "I'm looking for a girl."

"Hmm. Ain't we all, son."

"Have you ever heard of the Manic Groove restaurant?"

The cowboy hat bobbed as the man nodded. "Best nachos."

Ishida took a deep breath, wishing he'd taken English earlier in school. "Her name is Lisa, Leah, or Lyn."

The man looked to him. "Risa, Reah, or Rin?"

Ishida decided against trying to get any help. "Yes."

"Nope." The man looked back down the road. "You Chinese or somethin?"

"Japanese."

"Oh. I see."

The outskirts of Brooklyn came up quickly. The truck dropped to a lower speed, and Ishida found himself searching the sidewalks for a familiar sweet face.

"I'll have to let ya out next block," the driver said. "The mill's got its own entrance. Can't make the turn in town. Big ticket if ya go through the residential."

"I'm grateful for the ride."

"No problem."

The truck slowed a block from the house Renji and Orihime occupied, and the driver checked his side mirrors for traffic, seeing little.

Ishida pulled on the door latch. "Thank you."

"Good luck. Try the nachos."

Ishida got out and stepped back on the sidewalk as the tuck slowly moved into motion, its left turn signal blinking at the end of the long trailer of logs piled ten feet high, chained tightly. The driver waited for the traffic to clear and turned the rig by a sign reading Tri-County Hardwoods before the first residential block began.

Ishida looked to the gas station on his side of the street, and then down the sidewalk that led into town. According to the obituaries he'd read over the weekend, Mr. Neal Conrad had passed away at 218 Brooklyn-Pierport Street, the street that Ishida was standing beside. If he was lucky, Mr. Conrad's relatives who -- as listed in the obituary, resided in California -- hadn't sold the house yet.

Ishida settled the bag strap on his shoulder, the other bag in his hand. He didn't relish taking up lodging in the dead man's house, but it was either that or find another house for sale.

He hoped the utilities were still working.

Mrs. Brooks was in favor of sweet bean paste baklava that Monday afternoon in kitchen four. Orihime, Leah, and Meg nodded in agreement as they headed to the dry foods pantry and started their search for the small red azuki beans.

Orihime looked at the stacks of glass jars on the ceiling high metal shelves. _With a pantry like this_, she thought, _they could make anything._

Meg waved her and Leah over when she found the section of containers filled with individual jars of legumes and loose leaf herbs. She shook the glass jar, the beans rattling inside.

"Perfect," Leah said, looking to Orihime. "If we replace half the nut mixture, we'll need about two cups of bean paste. How many ounces of beans do you think we need for that?"

Orihime frowned, one hand going to the back of her neck where the spot beneath her hair was sorer than usual. "Well, I think about four-hundred grams."

Meg and Leah looked to each other.

"I wish I'd paid a little more attention when we studied equivalencies," Meg grumbled. She held the jar of beans closer. "We'll just take the whole thing."

They looked to where the students from kitchen one were entering the pantry, both of the girls splitting from Marc as he tried to move closer to them.

"Beat it," one of them growled at him, balling up her fist when he neared.

Marc put up a hand, grinning as he back away. "Okay, okay."

Leah took Orihime's elbow. "Let's go."

As they made their way back to kitchen four, Orihime felt a sudden dizziness, the room beginning to turn as she tried to focus on the counter where they worked. She stopped, unsteady for a moment, feeling Leah's hand tighten on her arm as she halted.

"Hey, are you okay, Inoue?"

Orihime nodded, which only made her head spin faster. She squinted, trying to focus on Leah as Meg continued on her way to the kitchen.

Leah looked closer at her. "No you're not. What's wrong?"

"Just a headache. A little dizzy." Orihime took a deep breath, smiling more. "It'll pass."

"Do you want to go to the nurse's office?"

"Oh, no." This time Orihime didn't shake her head. She let herself be led by Leah back to the kitchen, her fingers pressed to the back of her head, just under her hairline. "It's getting better."

"You shouldn't ignore headaches. Mom says everyone ignores headaches like they're nothing, and then they end up in the emergency room with all kinds of problems."

They reached the counter where Meg was watching them curiously, the cap already off the glass jar. "Hey, what's up?"

"Nothing," Orihime said quickly with more cheerfulness than she felt. "Is your Mom the nurse here?" she asked Leah.

The brunette girl shook her head. "No, but she is a nurse. For the ER at Piermont Medical." She lowered her voice. "Do you get headaches a lot, Inoue?"

"Oh, no. But, yes." Orihime groaned. She'd meant to leave it at no, but it was getting harder to think, and Leah's voice seemed to be muted. "Just sometimes."

"Did you tell Mrs. Smith?"

"Oh, no. I can't. You see ..." Orihime stopped herself, eyes widening. "I mean, it's not ..."

Meg shook her head. "I'll get Mrs. Brooks."

"Oh, no. I'm okay," Orihime said, dropping her hand from her neck, wincing at the throbbing pain there. "It's getting better."

Meg didn't believe it. "Why don't you tell Mrs. Smith?"

"I will."

Leah watched her carefully. "You said we need to add sugar for the bean paste. How much do we need?"

Orihime stared back at her. She knew this. She'd made it plenty of times at home. "Um, about... Oh," she said, her mind clearing a little, "just as much as beans we're using."

Meg nodded. "Four-hundred grams?"

Leah continued to watch Orihime as Meg looked around in the cupboard near the sink for a measuring cup. "We could go to the Piermont Medical emergency room, Inoue. Mom would get you right in quick. Renji could take us. You wouldn't have to tell Mrs. Smith. Do you think he'd do it, without telling his folks?"

Orihime giggled, and then shook her head slowly. "I don't need to go, Leah. It's gone." She smiled as her thinking cleared. "All gone."

Leah studied her closer, looking to each eye. "Mom's home after school tomorrow. Why don't you come over and she can take a look at you then?"

"Oh, no."

Leah glanced around at the other kitchens, and then stood close to Orihime's side. "Mom's got everything at the house. Our bathroom's got more supplies than a doctor's exam room. She was always bandaging up my brother when he was younger. He's got like a hundred stitches from his junior high years alone." When Orihime frowned at her, she added: "He was real adventurous, my brother Brad."

"Oh, no, thank you. It's just a headache. It's gone now." Nearly so.

Meg was looking at both of them. "Well, two-hundred grams is equal to a cup. So, two cups of sugar and beans each. How're you feeling, Inoue?"

"Fine." 

Leah sighed, watching her. "If you change your mind, let me know. It's no problem, Inoue. Mom would love to meet you."

Orihime nodded, smiling wider now that the fogginess of her mind was lifting. She wanted it clear so she could recite her passage from _Tamamo, the Fox Maiden_ in Shakespeare class next hour.

"Yup." She looked to the beans on the counter. "We have to boil them in sugar water and drain them. Then they sit overnight and we make the paste tomorrow."

Meg lifted an eyebrow. "Tomorrow?"

Orihime nodded. Leah shrugged.

"Bean paste tomorrow, baklava on Wednesday," Leah said, sighing. She looked to Orihime. "This is a long recipe. We're going to have to beg Mrs. Auden to let us out of Shakespeare Wednesday."

Meg nodded. "She'll let you go. She's all for the culinary arts. So medieval, you know."

Orihime's fingers went to the back of her neck again. She smiled as Leah's attention remained on her.

The spot was sore, a small bump. Maybe it was a spider bite. Maybe she should tell Renji.

Maybe it would just go away in a few days.


	14. Neighbor's Dog

Kitchen four's attempt at an baklava -- which took a moment to explain to their fellow classmates that _an_ was the Japanese word for sweet bean paste -- earned them an A grade that Wednesday. It took Orihime, Leah, and Meg's collective home ec class, and a Shakespeare and study hall period to accomplish it, but it was worth the reward of the good grade and the diamond shaped pieces of phyllo dough filled with the bean paste and nuts, topped with drizzled honey.

Renji had to admit, the baklava was on his mind as he waited at the tree for school to let out that Thursday afternoon. Orihime had been talking about it for three days, and if it had earned an A in class, maybe it was worth the wait. She was supposed to bring her share home with her, and he only hoped there was some left.

He looked up at the overcast sky that promised rain. It was a pleasant change, the slightly cooler weather that day, after the muggy days that had gotten only more humid the last few weeks.

Weeks?

_Had it really been that long already?_ he wondered, shifting positions as the crossing-guard glanced to him from her station at the end of the sidewalk where the intersection of the school's side street and Brooklyn-Pierport Street crossed.

He returned her attention for a moment. She wasn't the usual traffic Nazi with the power-hungry attitude from the other mornings and afternoons. She was a different one. He'd noticed her that morning as she crossed the groups of students in the light fog that had lingered until ten o'clock.

She was taller, slender, her dark blonde hair severely pulled back in a ponytail, her eyes hidden by mirrored sunglasses, even in the fog of morning.

Which he thought was peculiar, but she'd done her job without yelling nearly as much as the usual pudgy crossing-guard that handled the pedestrian traffic. He saw her look away, the stop/slow sign in her hand dangling at her side.

He sighed, his eyes going back to the school as the doors opened and students spilled out from the front and side doors. Most milled around, shoving and talking, before making their way to the waiting buses parked in the circle at the building's front. Others headed to the sidewalks to begin the walk home.

After a moment he saw Orihime and Leah emerge from the front doors, both carrying a plastic container each, again in the nearly matching green shirts. Renji stuck his hands deep in his jean pockets as they paused to talk to Meg and Danielle as they caught up to them on the sidewalk.

_Come on,_ he thought, eyes on the plastic container Orihime carried. The more he thought about the sweet bean paste dessert the more he decided it should taste pretty good. He had to admit, her cooking had improved with the home ec class lately, although they'd both resorted to rice for breakfast. Unless there were donuts in the house.

"Hi," they both greeted as they parted Meg and Danielle and met him at the tree.

"Hi. How was school?" he asked Orihime.

She nodded. "Good."

"Good." He looked to Leah. "How're you?"

She gave him a small smile. "Good. You?"

He nodded. They turned down the sidewalk, and he fell into step behind them, feeling the dampness in the air through his black t-shirt that was emblazoned with a graphic message in Japanese Orihime had told him probably would not be welcome at school, had it been in English. They followed the mass of students down the walk, Orihime and Leah walking close, heads together as they spoke. Most of the kids in the crowd had gotten used to Renji by now, and no one gave Orihime much trouble. In fact, most gave her the right-of-way.

They paused at the traffic light where the new blonde crossing-guard waited for the light to change before escorting them across the two-lane street. Renji waited with the pack, eyeing the guard, wondering if the neon smock she wore doubled as a slicker in case of rain.

He followed Orihime and Leah across the street, and then across the second side street in the direction of their house, away from town, realizing Leah was going with them. He let them lead by a few sidewalk panels, watching them. Orihime was shorter by half a head, her bouncy walk making her reddish-brown hair sway just past her shoulders, her posture straighter as Leah leaned to speak to her.

Leah's dark hair was longer, and while it was pulled up into its usual ponytail by the blue scrunchie she used, he'd seen it down, and knew it fell well past her shoulders. He watched the angle of her neck as she leaned to Orihime, nodding at something the Japanese girl said, the smile that crossed her face.

_Damn human bodies,_ he thought, slowing a few steps, shaking his head. _Why were they so weak? How could humans stand being so, so human all the time?_

_After all, she was only -- How old could she be?_ he wondered. _Certainly not old enough for the thoughts coursing through his mind._ He looked to Orihime. _Older than her,_ he knew. _Well, that should be old enough for something, even if--_

He halted his thoughts as Leah turned to glance at him briefly. When she turned back around Renji shook his head again. _This was turning into a long-ass assignment lately._

The girls ahead turned at the end of the driveway when they reached their house, speaking lowly as Renji trailed them as the high hedges that separated Raider's yard from theirs eclipsed his view of them.

"Look at the flowers on the other side," he heard Orihime say as they disappeared from his field of vision. "Tell me what kind they are."

He frowned at their sudden departure as he neared the driveway. He knew she liked the flowers on the south side of the house best, and had made comments before about what kind they might be -- he'd always simply said _the purple kind_ when she asked -- but they weren't _that_ remarkable, in his opinion.

He turned the corner into the drive, scowling when he didn't see them at the truck or house. Pulling away from him like that put him on edge. His eyes went over the back yard, looking for signs of either girl, but all he saw was the two containers of baklava on the back porch by their book bags, muted voices coming from the other side of the house. He was still at the truck in the driveway when he heard the unmistakable click of a pistol come from behind him.

Renji pivoted in time to see the blonde crossing-guard enter the driveway behind him, her head turned over her shoulder, then facing him as the hand beneath the neon smock lifted, a handgun leveling at his head without hesitation.

She fired the first shot, a sound dulled by the silencer fitted to the end of the Walther P38 barrel, and Renji sidestepped it in time. In one swift movement he reached for her hand, hearing the second shot fire, which blew out the truck's left rear tire. His hand closed vice-like over her wrist, his other hand clamped over her mouth, fingers tight on her face. Her free hand moved to the smock, and he released her mouth to grab the hand that brought up the short curve-bladed knife, but not before it ripped open his forearm.

His hand clenched over her wrist with the knife, his grip tightening as she struggled against him. He shoved her against the truck passenger door, the vehicle blocking them from view by the house. The impact knocked the breath out of her, and Renji's hand tautened over her wrist until the small bones there cracked.

She gasped, the knife falling from her grip. He dropped her broken wrist and snatched the sunglasses off her face.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Beneath the mirrored shades she was older than he expected, a hard look to her features that belied her figure. She tried to bring a knee up into his crotch, but he leaned against her on the truck, smothering her attempt. He braced his forearm, now bleeding freely, against her throat, pushing her head against the truck window.

"Who are you with?" he asked lowly, not wanting to attract attention from Raider's house behind him.

She shook her head. "I just want the girl."

"Who hired you?"

"I don't know his name," she said, face contorted as the bones in her wrist gave in to his grip.

"Think harder."

She shook her head again, and his hold on her right hand tightened, the bones creaking. She gritted her teeth at the pain.

"Tell me, or I'm going to break it and start on your ribs," he promised. He heard another sound and looked down in time to see her mangled left hand fumbling in the pocket of the crossing-guard smock to bring up a smaller handgun. He backed off her and snatched the second pistol away. In that fleeting second she twisted away from him and made a dash for the opening of yard beside the garage.

Renji threw the gun to the hedges and ran after her. She was swift, despite her lack of youth, that he had to admit, and he didn't near catching up with her until she'd made a hasty hurdle over the rear chain link fence that divided their back yard from the neighbor's. She passed through this yard, dodging lawn ornaments, and down the narrow sidewalk between the neighbor's house and wooden privacy fence beside it and into the street.

Renji was still in motion when the semi truck cab hit her. The driver braked too late, skidding to a stop ten feet down the residential street after it had rolled over her body with all sets of tires. He stopped in the sidewalk, slipping the ring on his left hand to his right.

The driver hopped out of the cab, rounding the back of the truck, its diesel engine rumbling in idle.

"Hey, lady," he said as he dropped to his knees beside her at the back of the truck. He pulled off his cowboy hat as he leaned over her. "Hey! Lady!"

Renji stepped closer as a few of the neighbors from other houses started to emerge in the street.

"You're not supposed to be driving that thing down this street," one neighbor said to the driver.

"There's a detour at the truck entrance. Call an ambulance!"

Two other neighbors reached the fallen woman. "Is she dead?"

"Never seen _her_ before."

"I think she's dead."

"Call the police!" the driver said frantically, throwing the nub of a cigarette from his lips to the curb.

Renji watched as more people gathered. The woman's smock was torn nearly off her body, her pants and shirt twisted from the collision. Beside her lay an extra magazine of bullets. Her broken wrist was already turning purple, and her left wrist, which he hadn't finished entirely breaking yet, was encircled by a metal band.

He frowned, feeling the blood run down his right arm, catching on his shinigami robe sleeve. He'd seen the metal before. It's dull luster, the snug size making removal impossible without a cutting tool, the seamless design.        

He turned back to the yard through which he'd chased her. She wasn't dead, not quite, but he knew she would be soon. Before the medics could reach her.

He crossed the yard and reached the back of the garage to the house he and Orihime shared. _Ugh, shared_, he thought, pausing at the back of the outbuilding. He could hear Orihime's giggle from the house, followed by Leah's voice.

"I suppose they could be hydrangeas," the brunette girl was saying. "I don't know much about flowers, Inoue."

"Hmm. Neither do I. I wonder what's keeping Renji."

He sighed, still hidden by the garage as he slipped the ring on his left finger. He removed the rag tied around his head and took out the knot, smoothing the black material. The gash at his right arm was open and bleeding, but with less force now. The blood was thickening, sticky on his skin. He grimaced at the four inch laceration as he wrapped the black cloth around it, pulling the skin together. The cloth covered much of the blood, but not all.

He was still thinking of a story to tell them when he rounded the corner of the garage to see Orihime and Leah sitting on the back porch steps with their school bags and the plastic containers.

Orihime put a hand to her mouth when she saw him. "Oh, no," she breathed.

Leah's eyes dropped to his bandaged and bloody hand, surprise claiming her face. "Holy shit. What happened to him?"

Renji worked up a grin as he met them and found the house key in his jean pocket. "Hey, sorry about that. Damn dog."

Both girls stood, looking to his arm. He unlocked the new back door, hoping Orihime would go along with any story he threw at them.

"The neighbor's dog?" she said, frowning at his reddened fingers.

"Yeah. They should really keep that thing on a leash." He looked to each of them. Leah looked suspiciously at his arm. "Did you see it go through the yard?"

They both shook their heads and followed him into the house. Renji looked around the kitchen. Nothing was out of place. He went into the living room as they spoke quietly behind him in the kitchen. He checked the rest of the house, finding nothing. When he looked at the still damaged door to Orihime's room, he groaned. They'd forgotten to get a new door knob to replace the broken one from Saturday night. He glanced around the room and spied one of Orihime's sweaters. He placed it over the door knob; it dangled askew over the broken knob.

_Close enough,_ he thought, heading down the hall. He looked at Orihime and Leah standing at the end near the staircase. He stopped, reading the inquiry on Orihime's face. _Not yet,_ he thought, wondering how long they could keep lying to Leah. Her eyes were on his arm, a perplexed look on her face.  

"Did you get bit?" Orihime asked carefully.

"Yeah. Uh, I'm going to wash up."

"That's a dog bite?" Leah asked, frowning.

He looked to the black cloth saturated with blood, his red hand below it. "Yes."

They passed him to go to Orihime's room, Leah turning to look at his hand as they did. She looked back up to him as he paused at the bathroom doorway.

"Are you sure, Renji?" she asked as Orihime went into the bedroom.

He nodded, watching her green eyes study his face. "I'm sure."

"You should see a doctor about that. It's got to be a nasty bite."

"It's not that bad."

She nodded, looking to the tattoos on his forehead. Her eyes traveled over them for a moment, her mouth opening as if she was going to say something. Her eyes went back to his and then she looked to Orihime in the room, debating something within herself.

"Come on, Leah," Orihime called. "We've only got half an hour before you work."

Leah nodded and joined Orihime.

Renji sighed and went into the bathroom. One look in the mirror at his reflection and he knew no one would believe it was a dog bite.


	15. Bandages and Brandy

It wasn't until her break that Leah was able to put more attention into thinking back on the incident that afternoon. She'd spent the first part of her seven hour shift chopping broccoli and scallions for turkey quiches for the next day's special, and quick-frying thinly cut steaks for sandwiches when the sous chef, Pauly, had taken his dinner break for twenty minutes.

She sat on the staircase in the alley behind the Manic Groove that led to the restaurant's back entrance to the banquet hall above. Her break had come during a lapse in the rain, and she sat on a thick layer of folded cardboard between her and the wet steps.

From down the alley behind her came Frank, the afternoon dishwasher. He was a lean, questionable guy in his early twenties, and rumor had it he dealt _stuff_ from his permanently parked van farther down the alley. He met her at the staircase, his hands jammed into the hoodie he always wore, and, from the looks of it, seldom washed.

"Hey, Leah. What time did you come out here?" he asked, his half-glazed eyes looking her over with appreciation.

"Quarter of."

He thought about this for a moment, as Wild Cherry's _Play That Funky Music, White Boy_ drifted from the Manic Groove's back door. "Quarter of what?"

She sighed. "Seven. Six-forty-five, Frank."

"Oh. Got ya." He frowned, an ear cocked to the music. "How does Connie get away playing this shit? Aren't you insulted?"

"I'm not a white boy."

"Hey, yeah, so I noticed." Frank wandered in the back door and shook her head. _He gets stranger every week,_ she thought.   

She looked up. The sky was gray and damp, the heat held down by low clouds heavy with rain. She watched them move slowly from the southwest, her thoughts drifting to Orihime. She'd meant to convince the exchange student to say something about the headaches to Mrs. Smith earlier that afternoon, but there had been no chance. Mrs. Smith was no where to be seen. She frowned, determined to make Orihime tell _someone_ about the headaches.

Maybe Renji. He seemed concerned enough about her. Leah's thoughts went to the bandaged arm he'd told them was a dog bite. She didn't believe him. Not entirely. Orihime had insisted it must be a dog bite, too, but Leah still had her doubts.

She thought back on the tattoos. She knew they extended beneath his t-shirt collar to the back of his neck; she'd seen that before. But that afternoon was the first clear look she'd had at them minus the head rag. The black marks went all the way back into his red hair, startling her in number and design, nearly evicting thoughts from her mind of mentioning Orihime's headaches to him.

"Are you ignoring me or daydreaming, Leah?"

Danielle's voice broke Leah's mind to the present. She looked at the blonde girl who was standing at the restaurant's back door, hands on her hips as she tapped a foot.

"Oh, hey, Danielle," Leah said, sitting straighter, swishing the melted ice and soda in the cup.

Danielle nodded knowingly. "What's on your mind?"

"No one." Leah groaned. She'd meant to say _nothing_.

"Oh? Like no one _no-one,_ or no one like that guy that hangs around Inoue all the time?" Danielle's face took on a secretive, omniscient expression.

Leah spared her a narrow look. "Well, they're not dating or anything. I asked. She said she's not involved with him."

Danielle glanced at her watch. "Charlie?"

"Charlie was the bald guy, Renji's cousin."

Danielle nodded. "Renji. That's right. Looks kinda extreme, if you ask me."

Leah shrugged, grinning. "What's wrong with extreme?"

"Nothing at all. I just didn't know that appealed to you. Tattoos. I mean, the guy really has them."

"It's not just the tattoos, Danielle." _Dang it,_ Leah thought. _How stupid._

Danielle smiled. "Yeah. He's --"

"Don't say hot."

"But he is."

"I'm so sick of everything being _hot_."

The blonde girl nodded. "Have you got a better word?"

_Several,_ Leah thought, but none she felt like saying aloud. She settled for one. "Intense."

Danielle gave a giggle. "Yeah, that'd work. Oh, Nan said there was a guy in asking about you Tuesday."

"Tues -- You're just telling me now?" Leah stood up and drank down the last of her diluted soda as Stevie Wonder's _I Wish_ started over the restaurant speakers, marking the seven o'clock hour.

Danielle dug into her black pants pocket for a hair-tie. "Hey, I just seen Nan yesterday, and I forgot until now."

"Who was it?"

Some guy asking about you, not much else."

"What'd he look like? Someone from school?"

Danielle shook her head, pausing to gather her hair into a ponytail and twist the tie around it. "No. Asian, Nan said, day shift."

Leah tossed her paper cup in the garbage can at restaurant wall and followed Danielle to the back door. "What'd she tell him?"

"Said you worked in the kitchen after school. That's it." Danielle waited expectantly. "Well, anyone you know?"

"I don't think so." Leah thought back on the farmers market as they went inside the restaurant as the Stevie Wonder song ended.

"Anyway," the blonde girl added, "he said he'd be back."    

It rained off and on late that afternoon from dinner until near dark, and Renji found enough dry time to change the truck tire the crossing-guard had shot out. It took him a full half hour to figure out how the tire jack worked.

The humidity rose with the rain, making the small house clammy as Renji and Orihime closed the windows on the south side. Orihime got her wish for raisins on half the pizza that Renji ordered an hour later, which surprised him that Pizza Bucket even had raisins to accommodate their request. After that they ate most of the baklava she'd brought home from school that day. It was actually good, he admitted to her, the sweet bean paste mixed with the filling of assorted chopped nuts between the layers of phyllo dough. Orihime had beamed at the compliment, relishing the dessert.

He settled in front of the TV in the living room later as darkness fell, flicking the channels with the remote to watch the quarterfinals hockey game while he caught up on paperwork for Soul Society. Actually, no one ever really caught up on paperwork for Soul Society, but he wanted to at least get the stack under control. The day's events had added three new forms he had to complete. In triplicate.

The first form stumped him as soon as he looked at it. _"Were there witnesses to actions while in human form?"_ the third question read. _"List all names and addresses of Living who witnessed events while the above (see paragraph 11b, form C7) incident transpired." _He sighed. Last names and addresses? He didn't know Leah's last name, and '_over the hill'_ wasn't exactly an address Soul Society would accept. He was quite sure the Society had invented a whole new category of forms just for this assignment.

He'd washed his right arm and closed the severed skin sides with adhesive bandages, using the entire box to do it. Even so, it stung and ached, the makeshift bandage of a torn up hand towel tied around his arm making for a lousy substitute for actual bandages. Of course, it was nothing compared to other injuries he'd had in the past, but without Fourth Division and their healing methods, he was at a loss.

He glanced at the TV and watched the hockey players on the ice for a few moments before wading again into the pile of forms. He'd found both guns and the short knife the crossing-guard had used in the hedges and driveway before dinner earlier, hoping Leah hadn't spotted them as she left the house. He put them in a shoe box in the basement, along with the knives from the first intruder that had visited, who was now buried in the garage.

Renji wished he'd gotten more information out of the crossing-guard before she'd got hit by the truck. He thought he could have made her talk, even if it took half a dozen broken ribs to do it.

He didn't like fighting a woman. Too frail, especially a human woman. Whoever had hired her, however, didn't seem to mind. It sounded just like something Aizen would do.

He shuffled the paperwork, his arm stinging as he moved. Upstairs he could hear Orihime letting the water out of the bath tub. She'd asked to help him with his arm after Leah left that afternoon, but he had already had it wrapped by that time, and he didn't really want to show her anyway. She was skilled at healing, but not with her own hands. Only with her powers, of which she had none at the moment.

He heard her move on the staircase down the hall as he looked over the first form of paperwork again as the rain outside was accompanied by an echo of thunder from the south. It wasn't like he could email or fax them in to Soul Society or anything, but it was a good practice to complete the forms as incidents arose.

Leah wasn't going to believe him much longer. Maybe she already didn't, even with Orihime's vouching. He looked to the hallway, but she hadn't appeared yet.

It wasn't until a commercial break in the hockey game that Renji realized five minutes had passed and Orihime still had not come down from the stairs. He stood up, glancing at the kitchen's locked back door as he went down the short hallway where the bathroom and unused bedroom were. He looked up the staircase to see her sitting halfway down it.

"Hey, are you all right?"

She sat leaned to the wall, still in her school clothes, her head drooped forward, her arms crossed, hands clutching her elbows. She looked up at his voice, her face nearly hidden by her hair.

Renji climbed the dark stairs and knelt before her until they were eyelevel. "What's wrong?"

Her face was wet as if she'd been crying, but she wasn't, her shoulders slightly shaking, her breath coming in short, rapid pants. He moved her hair back to see her face better, and her hand shot to his.

"My head hurts. Don't touch it."

Her tone surprised him and he sat beside her, but his hand remained light on her hair. "Where?"

She put a hand to her forehead. "It hurts inside here, but here," her fingers moved to the base of her skull beneath her hair, "here, too. I think I got bit by a spider, Renji."

He took her elbow and stood her up with him. "Let's get some better lighting."

They moved to the bathroom and he switched on the ceiling and overhead vanity lights. The room still smelled of the peachy bubble bath she had poured but not taken. He glanced at her robe and pajamas still on the hook behind the door.

"Why do you think it's a spider bite?"

Her eyes were leased with pain when she looked to him, her pout more of a glower. "I don't know what else it could be. I didn't get hit."

He nodded, looking over her hair. _Why couldn't Matsumoto have gotten this assignment?_ he thought. _Even Ikkaku would have refused this part. _"I'm going to take a look at it, okay?"

She didn't seem to care. She nodded, pulling her hair up from the back of her neck with one hand, turning her head so he could see.

_Where's Rukia when I need her?_ he thought, hesitating. He angled her head so the light from over the mirror at the sink highlighted her neck. Sure enough, a dime sized red mark of skin was inflamed and warm to his touch. He glanced at her reflection in the mirror, but her focus was on the floor, her expression set in a sulk.

"Ouch," she said when his finger passed carefully over the spot.

"Tender?"

"Uh-huh." She made a growling noise when he felt the warm area around the red spot. "Ouch."

"Okay." He frowned at the spot. It was raised and hot, one corner at the bottom exposing a small tip of something metal. She flinched when he touched the edge of it.

"Ouch, Renji. That hurts. Is it a spider bite?"

"No." He pushed her hair to one side, studying the rest of her neck and hairline to her ear, and then looked to the other side.

"What are you doing?"

He found nothing, save that her hair smelled like sunflowers -- he'd expected strawberries, of course -- and that it was soft as silk. He looked at her watching him now in the mirror. "It's not a bite, Orihime."

She looked up, turning her head out of his hands. "Then what?"

He shrugged. "There's something in there, but it's not an insect bite or sting."

She looked in the mirror at herself, and then him, and then opened the drawer to find the handheld mirror they'd gotten from Happy Dollar. She held it up behind herself, angling it to see the back of her head in the mirror. After a moment of frustration and holding her head at several angles, her hair flipped up with the other hand, she saw it.

She lowered the mirror and looked to him. "Can you take it out?"

Renji's eyes went to the back of her hair, shaking his head. "I'm not sure what it is, but one corner of something is protruding now." He wasn't sure how to phrase the next question. "When you were in Las Noches, did you ever have, uh, any medical treatment?"

An appalled look seeped through her face. "No," she said slowly. "Not that I know of."

He nodded. He wasn't sure what kind of an answer he was looking for. He reached into his back pocket. "I'm contacting Fourth Division. Back in a minute."

He told her to sit down and he stepped into the hall. This was out of his realm of experience -- _way out_. Generally he was on the receiving end of medical issues, and unconscious. He punched in the contact numbers for Fourth Division on the Soul Society communicator. There was no signal. He tried again, and then, as an afterthought, the code for Research and Development. _After all,_ he thought, scowling, _it was something metal beneath Orihime's skin._

No signal.

He tried both codes again, and then resorted to Second Division, and then the private code for his own division, and Captain Kuchiki. Nothing.

_Damn thing_, he thought, stuffing the worthless piece of technology into his back pocket. He glanced at Orihime sitting on the lid of the toilet, her hand pressed to the back of her neck, her face pinched in pain.

"There's no signal," he said as he joined her at the sink. "Maybe it's the rain," he added, hating the weak sound of the words.

"Can you take it out?" She stood and opened the medicine cabinet mirror. She found a pair of blunt ended tweezers and handed them to him. "Now?"

He shook his head, looking at the rounded end of the tweezers. "Whatever it is is larger than a grain of rice. At least a few millimeters."

She shrunk away. "You mean, it has to be cut out?"

He groaned. "Uh, no, but ...It's inflamed, and it's ... I think a small slit would do it."

She frowned, one hand on her head.

He watched her carefully. "How long has your head been hurting?"

She sighed. "A few weeks."

He turned her head again, moving aside her hair to see the red spot. He nodded. "We can't take this to a clinic, Orihime. Not here. We could never explain it."

She nodded, weakness grabbing at her legs as her hand braced on the wall beside the mirror. "Okay. Then what?"

The service station was half fuel stop and half convenience store. At the moment, Renji only cared about the convenience part. It was closer than Busch's grocery store, and the way Orihime was slouched in the truck's cab against the locked passenger door -- within his view through the wide window at the store front amid the rain  -- he figured closer was better.

He looked at the shelves and hooks of household and medicinal paraphernalia in the miscellaneous aisle of the store, under the close watch of the clerk behind the register counter. Renji's eyes rested on assorted cold medicines, cough syrups, bottles of indigestion liquids, and a host of other things. He picked out a small travel-size sewing kit that included a pair of tweezers with a flat, thin edge, a pack of razor blades, a bottle of aspirin, a package of alcohol swabs, and a box of adhesive bandages. Nothing else on the shelves looked to be of any use, so he headed to the counter.

"Is this it?" the lanky guy behind it asked, following Renji's gaze to where Orihime appeared half asleep in the truck.

Renji looked at the shelves of liquor behind the counter. _Not a bottle of sake in sight,_ he realized. He focused on a bottle of dark amber colored liquid, reading the label. "One of brandy."

The man behind the counter nodded and found the fifth of brandy and set it beside the other items Renji had chosen. "That it?"

Renji nodded, reluctance growing in him.

He made two more calls to Fourth Division, and one to Captain Hitsugaya once they were home. No signal, no answer. No help.

Orihime was sitting at the table, making an objectionable face at the bottle of brandy before her, and then at the other purchases Renji had brought from the store. She wasn't sure which hurt more now, the small spot at her neck or her headache, which was full blown torturous.

Behind her at the back door Renji snapped the communicator shut, cursing at the device. The rain outside had picked up in force, but there was little wind. According to the radio playing on the counter by the toaster diagnosing the crop outlook for the farming season, the rain was supposed to continue all night.

"Maybe you should eat something first," he said, delaying everything as much as possible.

She didn't shake her head. "I'm not hungry."

He didn't think she would be, not after the three pieces of pizza, and baklava, and the leftover rice and burger stuffed green pepper she'd eaten, topped by chocolate syrup.

He found two juice glasses in the cupboard by the sink and sat down at the chair to the side of the table, watching her expression. "I don't know what else to do, Orihime."

"It won't be too bad," she said, attempting a smile, trying to convince herself as much as him. "Will it?"

"No." He opened the bottle and poured the juice glass half full and pushed it to her. "Drink that and it won't be so bad."

She looked at the amber liquid, her nose wrinkling at the smell. "It looks like honey." She raised it only halfway to her lips before lowering it. "It smells awful, Renji."

He nodded, pouring himself a glass. He looked at the bottle. Eighty-proof. Forty percent alcohol. _What was sake? Fourteen percent? Sixteen? Matsumoto would know._ He drank his quickly, deciding it was every bit of the eighty-proof.

Orihime was reaching for the jar of honey across the table. "Can I put some in?"

He nodded and got up to find her a spoon, and as a second thought, a small glass custard dish.

Two dollops of honey later and she finally drank half her glass, each small sip followed by a disagreeable face and a short cough.

According to the wall clock, it took five minutes, but to Renji it seemed half an hour. He poured her a second drink and she tempered it with more honey.

"Do we have to listen to the farm report?" she asked suddenly as he opened the package of razor blades.

He looked to the radio on the counter. "No. I'll find something else." He went to the counter and poked at the radio buttons until a pop music tune came over the speakers. They usually listened to the county station for the weather report, but there wasn't much in the way of music on it. He sat back at the table, estimating her mood as he opened the sewing kit.

"It doesn't hurt so much now," she said, her fingers on her neck. She made a sudden scowl at the touch. "We're still taking it out, right?"

He nodded, although he really wanted to say _No_. He set the tweezers, needle, and thread on the table, pushing aside the two spare buttons that had come with the kit. The thread was no more than a few loops of white, thin, and just enough to attach the buttons. The needle had a small loop in one end, and he set it aside also, and took the tweezers, the primary reason he'd bought the kit.

"Can Leah and Meg come over after school tomorrow? Leah keeps inviting me over to make brownies, and I always say I have to ask Mrs. Smisu. Which I can't really do."

He shook his head, unwrapping the protective cardboard from one of the razor blades, disinclination growing. "You're not going to school tomorrow."

"I have to."

"Nope." He looked to her pout, which was only slightly hampered by a sluggish sigh. "You're not going to feel like doing anything, I think. Drink up."

She looked at the near empty glass. "I've had enough."  

He poured it half full again with brandy.

"Renji ..."

"Just drink it." He opened one of the individually wrapped alcohol swabs, watching her down half the strong liquid in the glass.

"Ugh."

He brought the holder full of napkins and the custard dish within reach, and pulled his chair closer to hers, taking a deep breath. She looked to him for a moment, her normally large brown eyes sagging a bit. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"No," she said, but put one hand beneath her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled it up, resting her chin in her other palm, her elbows on the table.

He wished he'd had another drink before she was ready. This was not something he'd attempted before, and didn't want to now. He looked at the red spot beneath her hair line, the corner of a small metal object barely breaking the surface from her skin. With the tweezers he took hold of the corner, but the small object didn't budge.

"I can feel that," she said through clenched teeth.

"Sorry." He found the razor blade and considered the skin around the too-warm area of her neck. "You'll probably feel this, too."

"Okay. I'm ready."

He made a small, quick slit just to one side of the metal tip, a mere four millimeters. He saw her fingers tightened on her hair, her breath catch at the cut. A small trickle of red and clear fluid seeped from the new opening. He dabbed at it with a napkin, bringing a flinch from her.

"Sorry." He used the tweezers to grab the end of the metal, tugging gently. There was some resistance, bringing a guttural sound from her, and then the metal emerged. He held the small flat piece of metal in the tweezers, shaped like a triangle with rounded points, measuring no more than half a centimeter.   

"Leah's mom is a nurse."

"I don't want to bring this to professional attention, Orihime."

"Oh, no; I just remembered she said her mom was always fixing up her brother when they were kids. All the time."

He nodded.

"I don't think he ever really wanted my help at all, Renji," she said quietly as he looked at the metal piece.

His attention went back to her, and then to her neck. He held a napkin to the small cut that was bleeding slightly. "Who?"

"Aizen-sama."

He looked at her with new interest. "Why would you say that?" He carefully wiped the damaged area around the spot on her neck, the red color from the skin already fading.

"I think he just wanted to see if anyone would follow." Her voice had grown slower, more timid. "He wanted to see who would, and how strong they were."

He opened another alcohol swab, watching her eyes close. "No one went to Hueco Mundo that didn't want to go. No one made anyone go."

"He said he'd leave my friends alone if I went with him."

"You believed him?"

She nodded slightly.

He tentatively wiped the swab around the small cut, not wanting to touch the raw area.

"I can't fight, Renji. I thought it would prevent people from getting hurt. Not just him." She sighed. "Not just _him_, but others, too."

_And there was that damn strawberry again,_ he thought. "This will sting."

"Okay."

She only cringed a little when the alcohol met her skin, her senses blunted by the brandy.

He sighed, looking into the box of adhesive bandages. "Aizen wants war, no matter what you chose to do, Orihime." He pulled off the plastic backs of the bandage and carefully taped it over the small cut. "Any other spots hurting?"

"No." Her fingers moved to the bandage, her hair falling over her neck. "It already feels better, Renji. Thank you."

He sat back in his chair, watching her sit straighter, her eyes opening, looking to him tiredly. "Don't thank me yet. You're going to feel like hell tomorrow."

"I think I should go to school. I never miss."

"No one here knows that. You're staying home."

He escorted her up the stairs, her steps wobbly, leaning against him and giggling a few times. When she got to her room she sank onto the bed. He set the bottle of aspirin on the night stand as she stared at him.

"I'll get you some water."

She shook her head exaggeratedly. "I don't need any. My head doesn't hurt anymore."

"It will tomorrow."

"Then I can take the aspirin tomorrow."

He shook his head and left to the bathroom, listening to the rain pouring outside. He found the pink plastic cup she used in the morning in the medicine cabinet and poured it half full of water, his thoughts volleying between her lackadaisical mood and the foreign object he'd just pulled from her neck.

When he got to her room she was already slumped over on the pillow, snoring softly, still half sitting. He set the cup on the night stand and shook her shoulder.

"Orihime."

She only responded by to curling her legs onto the bed.

He looked to the bracelet fixed to her wrist and then to her hair part of her face. He unfolded the blanket at the end of the bed and pulled it over her, watching her hands close around the edge under her chin.

He turned out the light and went back downstairs. He'd have rather faced down a dozen Hollows than have to do _that_ again, he decided, looking to the razor and bandages still on the table in the kitchen. He sat down, the music on the radio blending with the rain outside and the sports commentators on the TV from the next room. He poured himself a glass of the brandy and looked at the metal chip in the glass dish.

He picked it up with the tweezers, the edges still flecked with tiny bits of flesh. _No wonder she was hurting,_ he thought, turning the metal, frowning at it. _What the hell was Aizen up to_?

Why hadn't she told him sooner?

He knew it was her nature, that selfless, self-defeating vein of unselfishness that ran through her. He studied the metal piece. It appeared to be only that, nothing more. It was very similar to the metal he'd seen on the crossing-guard's wrist band.

And the intruder who was buried in the garage. He loosened the watch on his wrist and looked at the reactive metal piece that ran off his body heat. Aizen had had access to much of Soul Society's technology, and with Gin and Tousen's input, the possibilities were far-reaching.

He drank the brandy, not liking the possibility that was beginning to surface.

He sighed, finishing the drink and pouring more. He really didn't want to dig up the man in the garage floor.


	16. Archer in the Shadows

Orihime rolled over in the pale pink sheets, pulling the rose colored comforter around her snuggly, smiling as she slept better than she had in two weeks.

Until she turned her head to the window, and the blinding sunlight hit her full in the face. She squinted, shielding a hand against the morning's cheery glare. She slowly opened her eyes, sighing at the shade still open. She hadn't pulled it down the night before, and she only dimly recalled going to bed.

She sat up quicker than she should have, a sudden pain shooting up her head to her temples.

"Ugh..."

It took a moment to untangle her legs from the bedclothes to reach the floor. At least the ache pounding through her head was tolerable, unlike the pain the last few weeks that had become increasingly debilitating, coursing through her neck until she'd wanted to black out.

She stood unsteadily and made her way to the window, seeing Renji standing at the garage with the lawn mower as she fumbled with the shade and pulled it down. She heard something from the neighbor's house south of them that sounded remotely like a dog yipping.

She took small steps to the bathroom, her hand jangling the _Hello Kitty_ pull on the bedroom door's broken knob as she went. In the bathroom she hovered over the sink, looking at herself in the mirror, grimacing at her reflection. She smiled, running a hand through her hair. Her neck didn't hurt. The blinding pain was gone. Now it was just a hangover.

"Hey, how're you doing?"

Renji's voice made her flinch, her fingers gripping the sink tighter. She focused on him in the doorway behind her.

"Okay. How're you?"

"I really want to know, Orihime." He watched her turn around and lean against the sink, one hand at the back of her head, fingers on the adhesive bandage under her hair. "How are you?"

She nodded slowly, looking to the makeshift bandage on his arm. "Better, I think. Thanks. How's your arm?"

"Good," he said automatically.

She stood straighter, smoothing the shirt she still wore from the day before. She looked down at her rumpled yellow and pink skirt. "I don't think I should go to school today."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "It's past ten-thirty already. Go back to bed."

"I think I will."

He left and pulled the door shut behind him. She turned back to the sink and washed her face with tepid water for a moment, dried it, and then went back to her bedroom. She closed the door as best it would stay shut, not bothering to brace the waste basket against it as she had been during the last week to keep it from opening the few inches it always did.

_Another door to fix,_ she thought tiredly, pulling off her shirt and skirt, draping them over the desk chair. She found her pajamas and put them on, and crawled back into bed, and to her dreams of friendly faces and blueberry donuts.

Renji went back down the stairs and out to the garage. He pulled the door down, hiding thoughts of the body beneath the clay. He hadn't made up his mind yet about it. The metal band on the intruder's wrist could be anything, or nothing.

He looked over the wet grass still shining in the sun. _Too wet to mow,_ he'd decided. He glanced down at his arm.

It was a small lie he'd told Orihime, but necessary. The arm wasn't all right; it had opened up several times since he'd gotten the injury, and had refused to even begin healing, primarily because the adhesive bandages kept shifting around when he moved.

He looked to the small furry object that kept bumping in and out of sight to his left over the southern neighbor's six foot high hedge.

Jump. "Yip!" Jump. "Yip!" Jump. "Yip!"

He watched the small brown terrier bounce up and down, barking each time it saw him over the hedge, untiringly. The elderly neighbors were obliviously home. The dog had been jumping and barking for forty-five minutes, with only an occasionally _"Down, Milk Dud,_" from a wheezy old woman a few times. Renji didn't bother to look over the hedges. He wasn't about to stir up trouble over a cat-sized dog when he had _other_ things neighbors may complain about him.

He went back into the house and turned the radio on in the kitchen. Mowing the grass was out of the question for a few hours, so he set his sights on something a little more pertinent.

He grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator, listening to the pop tune coming from the radio, deciding Orihime was right; the station was easier on the ears than the twenty-four farm report. He opened the soda and drank half of it, feeling a little guilty for having insisted on the brandy last night for her.

_It was necessary,_ he kept telling himself. Rukia would have a fit when she found out, but she'd have a fit if he hadn't offered Orihime something before slicing into her neck. 

He sighed, looking at the short length of thread and needle still on the table. _Of course,_ he thought, _Ichigo would throw a fit, too. _Of the two, he'd rather withstand a fit from Kurosaki rather than Rukia. He'd learned she was more lethal. He steered his thoughts away from her, disliking the big brother mode as much as he was determined to stay in it.

He sat at the table and unwrapped the makeshift bandage of the torn towel from his arm, pulling at the parts that stuck to the edges of the laceration. It wasn't bleeding, at least, not until he pulled the towel from it. Then it bled in a few places. It took a full seven minutes of frustration to thread the needle, and then the frail thread broke when he pulled a knot into the end.

He looked to the eight inches of thread left in the needle, searching his memory for locations of more thread in the house. Nothing came up.

He ripped open an alcohol pad packet and wiped off the skin around the sides of the cut. It wasn't a happy-looking injury, he decided, having grown a bit jagged and dry along the edges. At least it wasn't infected. He thought.

He started at one end, piercing the needle point into the skin on one side and then the opposite side, drawing the thread through, then paused.

How to tie it? How to draw the edges together?

Outside the small dog's barking started again, this time a steady high-pitched _'yip-yip-yip,'_ and then there was a knock at the front door.

Renji forgot the needle and thread and went to the living room door, looking out the narrow side window, but unable to see directly in front of the door. His injured arm went to the hinge side of the door where the katana leaned against the wall.

He opened the door quickly, startling Leah into a sidestep.

She smiled. "Hi. Is Inoue home?"

He nodded, staring at her for a moment before it occurred to him to invite her in.

She looked farther into the room behind him. "Can I talk to her?"

"Come on in." He opened the door and set the katana behind it as she stepped in.

She looked around the room, then back to him. "Is she upstairs?"

"Uh, yeah." He shut the door and locked it, then saw her eyes go to the sword. _Shit,_ he thought. _Quick, think of something. Anything._

"Because she wasn't at school today," she said slowly, looking from the sword to him.

"Why aren't you at school?"

"We had a half day today. In-service." She slipped off her canvas shoes. "I thought maybe she wasn't feeling well. You know..." After a pause she looked to the hall. "Where's your Mom?"

"Uh, she's," he gestured to the kitchen, then shook his head. "Not here."

"Shopping?"

"No." He cleared his throat, looking over the purple and blue tie-dye shirt she wore, the hem ending in cuts of fringe. "She took my dad to the airport." _The second default answer_, he thought, hating the words.

She hesitated over the next words. "I kind of wanted to talk to your Mom yesterday."

"Why?" he asked pointedly, and then nodded. "Come on."

She followed him into the kitchen, pausing at the doorway. "Well, Inoue's been...Is she upstairs?"

"She wasn't feeling so well this morning. She stayed in bed."

"The headaches? Holy shit," she said, her eyes resting on the thread and needle still dangling from his arm.

Renji looked down at the forgotten attempt at sutures. It was too late to hide it, so he grinned, shrugging. "It keeps coming loose."

She crossed the room and picked up his arm, turning it to see the stitch he'd begun. Her eyes rose to his. "You didn't go to the doctor, Renji? At all? Why not?"

"It's not that bad." He tried to pull his arm from her, but her fingers tightened.

"You can't just let this go." She turned his arm, holding it closer to the sink window, studying the open flesh. "Is Inoue okay?"

"Yes. Of course. Just a headache. She's feeling better today, but was just tired." He waited for her to believe him.

"Because she's been having bad headaches at school."

"And you didn't say anything?"

She frowned, her hand tensing. "I was going to tell your Mom, but I never see her."

He nodded. "You could have told me, Leah."

"I was going to, but you got bit by this _dog_," she said, tapping his arm with one finger. "What's really going on around here, Renji?"

He sifted through the lies he'd prepared, none of them sounding even remotely workable, a little distracted by the green eyes she had pegged on him, his arm warm in her clutch. "Nothing."

She looked back down at his arm. "I can sew this up if you want me to," she said, her tone void of curiosity now.

"I'll take care of it."

She released his arm and pulled out the second chair at the table, and then looked over the assorted items still on the table. "Do you have any other thread? This stuff is too thin."

"No, that's all."

She nodded. "Do you have any floss?"

She followed him up the stairs and peeked into Orihime's half open bedroom door as he found floss in the bathroom. She looked at the form of the sleeping girl for a long moment, and then turned to see him in the hallway.

"Is she really okay?"

He nodded, and they went back to the kitchen.

She sat at the table as he found a can of soda in the refrigerator and set it before her.

"Thanks." She snapped open the tab top and waited for him to set his arm on the table. "Why won't you tell me what's really going on here?"

He sat closer to the table, his arm lying near her as she ripped a piece of floss from the plastic dispenser. "Nothing is going on."

She looked into the living room where she could see the sword by the door. "So that's just the latest in home security?"

He glanced at the katana. _The truth would be so easy right now,_ he thought. "That's Charlie's. He's supposed to pick it up this weekend."

"Oh." She threaded the needle with floss, giving his arm a closer look. "Do you have any antiseptic, aside from the alcohol pads?"

"Uh, no."

"Well, it looks clean," she said, turning his arm to see the laceration better. "The alcohol is going to sting like hell."

He looked to the packets on the table. "That bad?"

She nodded.

"Go ahead."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. He wasn't ready for the sharp stinging that followed, but didn't say anything when the damp pad touched the open wound. 

"Sorry," she murmured repeatedly, dabbing tentatively at the damaged area. "What did your Mom say about this?"

He unclenched his teeth. "She said to stay away from the dog."

She shook her head, finishing with the pad.

He noticed she didn't make a knot in the end of the floss she'd threaded on the needle. "Orihime said your mother is a nurse. Have you done this before?"

"Just once. On my brother, when he got into some barbed wire a few years back, and didn't want my mom to know." She opened another of the alcohol packets, eyeing him. "Who's Orihime?"

For a few seconds Renji just returned her stare. He sighed. "I meant to say Inoue. It's a sort of nickname. Gwen gave it to her."

She nodded, then leaned over the table, her ponytail blocking most of his view of the arm, her knee bumping his. She mumbled "_sorry_" as she pulled his arm closer. She wiped the skin around both sides of the laceration with the alcohol pad and inspected the raw flesh for a moment. "You can't keep telling me this is a dog bite, Renji."

He watched her hesitate before sticking the needle through the side of skin he had attempted earlier and then to the opposite side, drawing the severed sides together carefully. "What would you believe?"

She laughed a little, tying the stitch snugly. "Are you serious?"

_Yes_, he thought. "No. That's a joke," he said, chuckling as she posed the needle for another stitch.

"Oh." She cut the floss with the razor blade and did two more, gently wiping the skin with the alcohol pad.

"How long has she been having headaches?"

"A few weeks that I know of. She said she'd tell your Mom." She glanced at him. "Did she?"

He nodded. "Last night."

"Good."

"Yeah, she took some strong aspirin stuff and was feeling better, but decided to stay home today."

"That's good."

He watched her do a few more stitches, her fingers careful and soft on his skin. "How old are you?"

She paused for a second. "Seventeen. Inoue's fifteen?"

"I think so. Or sixteen."

She shrugged slightly. "They always put exchange students in the upper grades, to get the larger upper-class experience. She's doing well in her classes, if that's what you're wondering."

He nodded. "Mom says she's a good student."

She tied off the stitch, focusing on the tattoos that peeked out from his black head rag. "Are you in a gang or something?"

He knew he should have seen the question coming, but it caught him off-guard, perhaps because he was watching her lips move as she said it. "No."

She nodded, pricking the needle into his skin for the next stitch. "What's up with all the tattoos? Do they mean anything?"

He sighed. "They did when I got them."

She looked to him momentarily. "Don't they now?"

He nodded. "Yeah, they still do."

For a moment she was quiet, tying off the stitches as they were completed. "What did the crossing-guard want?"

His arm flinched beneath her hands. "What?"

She pulled his arm closer again, watching him. "That crossing-guard from yesterday. She looked like she was trying to catch up with you."

"Oh, that. _Her_. She said I crossed against traffic." He waited to see if she believed him.

"No, you didn't."

"That's what I told her."

She leaned back over his arm, nodding, the scent of jasmine shampoo stronger as she moved. "She's the one that got hit by the truck. Weird, huh?"

"Yeah. Weird."

She finished the stitches and wiped both sides of the injury with another alcohol swab. He looked at it, the row of neat stitches crossing the red line effectively.

"Thanks."

She smiled, then leaned closer, eyes on his arm before moving to his. "Why won't you tell me what's going on around here, Renji?"

"It's a long story." He was tempted to say more, maybe not everything, not yet, but more. He wasn't sure why her rapt attention was so persuasive when she was clearly merely asking. "There's really nothing to say, Leah."

She bemusedly wiped the sides of the row of stitches. "Do you have any gauze?"

"No."

"Bandages?"

He pushed the half empty box of adhesive bandages to her.

She lifted one eyebrow. "How about an ace bandage?"

"A what?"

She shook her head. "I guess we could use a clean sock. One that we can cut up."

He nodded and left her alone in the kitchen to go upstairs. He looked in on Orihime momentarily. She stirred from her hibernation in the bedclothes, turning onto her back, but didn't wake up. He found a sock in his bedroom bureau drawer and went back downstairs, his freshly mended arm feeling different after being closed.

He set the sock on the table. "Will that do?"

"Yup." Leah took a razor blade and folded the sock over to cut the foot part off. "No scissors?"

Renji sighed. "I don't know where they are right now."

She nodded. The song on the radio ended and the deejay announced the news stories coming up at the top of the hour. Leah looked to the clock on the wall. Eleven-fifty.

"Do you think Inoue will be awake soon?"

He shook his head. "She was sleeping when I went up." He looked over the tie-dye shirt. "That's what you wear at Manic Groove?"

"Yeah." She picked off the loose fuzzies of the sock edge and took two napkins from the holder. She folded them together so they were quadruple the thickness. "You really should get something better than this. I mean, if you're not going to get any real medical attention."

He watched her scrunch up the sock into a smaller coil. "I'll find something soon."

She pulled his hand closer, slipping the sock over his fingers to his wrist near one side of the injury. She placed the napkins over the stitches and eased the sock over it carefully, covering the length of arm snuggly.

Renji looked up at the radio as a news story was announced.

_"... from Montcalm Middle School this morning, according to school officials,"_ the newscaster was saying. _"The three gunmen's attempts were thwarted when a school bus driver spotted the masked men hanging around the school's rear entrance. Authorities have released few details, but what information we have been able to obtain indicates the gunmen were seeking one of two Asian foreign exchange students the school district is hosting at the high school, also on the same block as the junior high school. Names are not being released at this time. More details will be announced as they are made public."_

He looked to Leah's attention on him, her hands stilled over his arm as the news story ended and a new one began.

"Is that what you're afraid of for Inoue?"

"No."

She nodded, smoothing the sock over his arm. "Because I heard what happened in Jasper."

It took him a few moments to recall he'd told her he was from Jasper, and a few more to remember that there had been an earlier attempted abduction from the school there. _It was as good as any excuse, _he thought.

He sat back, nodding. "Sometimes. There seems to be a lot of them lately." 

She'd watched him as he said it, estimating the worth of his words, trying to gauge the truth in his brown eyes. She looked to the kitchen doorway as Orihime appeared there.

"Hey! I thought I heard you here," she said to Leah.

The brunette girl stood and smiled. "How're you feeling, Inoue?"

Orihime returned the smile as Leah gave her a quick, gentle hug. "Better. I missed school."

"Yeah, well, it was only half day."

"Oh, I forgot about that." Orihime looked to Renji. "Ooh, she took care of your arm. That's good."

"Yeah, much better." He stood up as Orihime leaned against the wall. "You're sure you're okay now?"

"Uh-huh." Orihime looked from him to Leah and then back again. "Can she stay for lunch? I'm starving."

"Oh, I've got to be at work in, oh, geez, soon," Leah said, glancing at the clock. "Fifteen minutes. Hey, can you come over Sunday? We'll make brownies with Meg."

Renji noticed she'd looked to him when she said it, waiting for something, he could see. _Testing_, he thought.

"Well, I ..." Orihime began, looking to him. "What do you think your mother would say?"

He was still looking at Leah. "Why don't you and Meg come over here Sunday?"

Orihime nodded, pleased that the movement brought no sickening headache with it this time. "We could cook here. I'll make curry to go on the brownies. Like the frosted brownies we saw in the book at class."

Leah looked to her, nodding slowly, sizing up Orihime's quickly tossed on pink sweatpants and matching hoodie, her hair quickly combed. "You sure you want company here? Feel up to it?"

"Sure."

"Okay." She looked to Renji. "Let us know if it's not okay with your folks."

He nodded. "Leave your phone number. I'm going back outside," he said to Orihime, then looked back to Leah. "Thanks for everything."

"Anytime."

He nodded, then left out the back door.

Leah looked closer at Orihime as the girl found paper and pen to take her phone number. "Are you sure you're okay, Inoue?"

"Uh-huh. Much better." Orihime's fingers went to the back of her neck, feeling the small bandage there. "Good to go."

Leah wrote down her phone number. "Glad to hear it."

Two minutes later Leah was hurrying down the sidewalk toward town. She was going to be late, she just knew it, but it was time well spent knowing Orihime was okay and feeling better.

_She looked better_, she thought, _her eyes pain free and happier than they'd been the last few days._ She hoped the time-clock at Manic Groove was a few minutes slow. She walked quickly, her mind weaving back to Renji.

_No way that was a dog bite,_ she thought. _And no way he was telling the truth about a few things._ She just wasn't sure which things. The gash in his arm was evidence of a clean, sharp sever, not a bite. She'd seen enough of her brother's escapades to know that much.

The nervousness that had come with tending his wound was fading. She couldn't believe he hadn't found medical attention for it. _At least it was clean,_ she thought, sighing. Her pulse skipped quicker, making her smile as she recalled his proximity, the same draw she'd felt other times in his presence. The deft smell of aftershave around him, a sense of strength she'd noticed from the first time she'd seen him a few weeks ago.

_Idiot_, she thought, trying to focus on the work awaiting her. Last time she'd thought about him she'd nearly chopped off a finger during prepping at the restaurant.

The sidewalk had more traffic than usual for the warm noon day, as school was out early. Her mind turned to the oddities surrounding the Smith address on Brooklyn-Pierport Street.

She almost stopped walking, her mind recalling where she'd heard the address before. _The boy with the white hair,_ she thought. _The boy who had come into the Cake Cottage a few weeks ago to ask for directions. The boy who was driving the truck._

Renji's truck.

She remembered to walk again, and picked up her pace. _What the hell was going on at that place?_ 

"Sorry," she said, dodging a figure on the sidewalk that had stopped walking in front of her, making her nearly run into him. She swerved around him and hastened on. A moment later she realized the figure had turned and was now at her side.

"Do you work at the Manic Groove?" he asked.

Leah slowed, but didn't stop, looking to Ishida as he fell into step beside her. "Yes." She took a better look at him. "Why?"

He realized she wasn't going to stop, and hurried to keep up with her. "I was just there."

"Oh?" She continued on. "Well, I hope you had a good meal."

He followed. "My name is Ishida Uryû." He would have bowed, but she hadn't slowed down. "I think we have a mutual friend."

She glanced at him as she walked, wary of most everything now. _Renji's suspicious nature was contagious, _she realized. "I don't think so. I'm late. Excuse me."

Ishida sighed and matched her steps. "Orihime Inoue. Do you know her?"

Leah shook her head, the news story replaying in her mind. "I think you've got the wrong person."

"Are you Leah?"

She stopped. He did, too, looking at her tie-dye shirt.

"I'm a friend," he said, a thick accent to his words as he pushed his glasses further onto his nose. "I followed her from Japan. I think she may be in trouble."

She looked him over carefully. He was on the slender side, with black hair and studious dark eyes, a determined set to his features, his tone solemn but not menacing.

"I saw you at the Pierport market with her last Sunday."

Leah bristled at the mention. She knew Orihime had seen someone she thought she knew there, and he certainly looked vaguely like the figure she'd seen in the distance that day.

"I don't know who you're talking about." She wished she'd gotten Orihime's phone number. _How many Smiths could there be in Brooklyn? _she wondered. _If Renji's phone number is even listed in the directory,_ she added to that thought. _I can ask Inoue about it Sunday._

"I think you do." He nodded, watching her nervously tighten the blue scrunchie that kept her hair in a ponytail.

"I'm late."

"My name is Ishida Uryû," he said again, catching her arm as she moved off. She paused, looking to his hand. He released her. "I know where you work. I'll be back tomorrow. In case you think you know her."

"I don't work tomorrow," she lied.

"The waitress said you did."

Leah moved off down the sidewalk. "She was wrong."

Ishida sighed, watching her go. 


	17. Happy Family

Renji wasn't sure how baking brownies Sunday had morphed into a full-blown cookout, but it had. He was quite sure it had something to do with the stream of phone calls between Orihime and Meg Saturday, but he wasn't certain who was more at fault. Orihime had seemed especially inspired since he'd said that tentative _'yes'_ to brownies on Friday.

By ten o'clock Sunday morning, he didn't care about placing the blame anymore. He was more intent on the gas grill that was flaming in the backyard.

His attempts at making the grill operational had failed at first lighting, and he was left with the blazing thing shooting flames three feet into the air before he could close the cover and pull it onto the driveway. There it reduced to a thick smoke that rolled out the vents and from under the cover, smelling as bad as it looked.

Orihime poked her head out the back door as Renji glared at the burning metal contraption. "Everything okay, Renji?"

He nodded, and then turned to the house. She backed into the kitchen as he came in and headed for the basement door. "We'll use the other one."

She went to the kitchen counter that was stacked with peanut butter, garlic bulbs, a bottle of brown mustard, and the half filled jar of honey. She looked to him as he hauled the kettle-style charcoal grill up from the basement staircase.

"Does that work?" she asked as he carried it to the back door.

"It better," he said, then paused, looking over the ingredients, cutting board, and knife she had on the counter. "I thought you were making shish kabobs."

"Oh, yes, but I'm making a marinade for the fish and chicken." She smiled, the knife in her hands posed flat side over a clove of garlic on the board. "Meg is bringing potato salad and melon. Leah's bringing a cake and chips."

"What happened to the brownies?" he asked, using his elbow to hit the latch on the back door.

"Oh, we're doing that, too." She set the flat side of the blade down on the garlic and brought her fist down on it forcefully, crushing it from its papery skin.

He shook his head and went outside with the grill, deciding her cooking had taken a turn for the aggressive since she'd come to America.

* * *

By noon Meg had arrived, and Renji had conquered a charcoal fire in the grill. The gas grill had stopped smoldering, the smell only lingering when the mild breeze shifted for a moment or two in the bright, sunny day.

He heard Meg arrive -- actually, he heard Orihime's delighted squeal about _real classic American_ potato salad -- as he found a few folding lawn chairs in the basement and took them out to the back yard. He'd already spent half an hour setting up the umbrella over the round picnic table, which was in sore need of a paint job, and took a broom to it.

Despite this, Orihime had saw fit to spread a yellow and white checkered plastic table cloth over it that they'd gotten from Happy Dollar that morning during an impromptu run into town for chicken and a package of frozen swordfish. She'd even cut it carefully to fit around the umbrella pole in the middle of the table and taped the seam to make it fit properly.

"A real American cookout," Orihime had said over and over again with a giggle earlier as she marinated the thawing fish in lemon and ginger.

He'd only nodded, unsure why she was so excited about it if _he_ was the one that was supposed to tend the flaming kettle.

"It's tradition. All American men like to grill out," she'd explained. "Mrs. Brooks told us we should invent new recipes for the upcoming Memorial Day weekend. It's traditional to grill out, Renji."

Tradition or not, he was not anticipating the ordeal. At least he'd picked up a six pack of beer when they were in town. _Maybe it should've been more,_ he thought, hearing the girls' laughter get louder from inside as they turned up the kitchen radio.

He looked to the garage, still unsure about the intruder buried there. He fingered the communicator in the back of his jean pocket. It was still malfunctioning. No outgoing calls. Nothing coming in.

He wasn't sure if it was the chip he'd pulled out of Orihime's neck, or something else. The metal band on the dead man's wrist couldn't be solely to blame; he'd had problems with the communicator _before_ the break-in.

"Hi, Renji!" Meg said, startling him as she came out the back door and placed a pitcher of iced tea on the table. "Inoue said to bring this out."

"Oh. Good." Inwardly he groaned. Being host to Orihime's friends wasn't what he had in mind when he'd accepted -- not that he'd had any _choice_ in the matter -- his captain's order to accommodate Tenth Division's requests, whatever they may be. "Is Leah here yet?"

She nodded, arranging tall blue glasses on the table. "She just walked in the door. Do you want some tea?"

"Uh, no. Not now, thanks."

She nodded again and went back into the house, but not before she looked to his arm where an ace bandage was wrapped.

Happy Dollar had plenty of cheap first-aid supplies, and he'd found gauze and the elastic bandage to hide Leah's needlework on his arm from Friday. _Not too uncomfortable, too, _he'd decided over the last few hours. More importantly, Orihime's neck was healing fine, and she claimed to be free of the headaches.

"Hey! Where's your sister, Smith?"

Renji looked to where Raider was hanging over the fence above the hedges between their yards. "What do you want?"

"Just asking about your sister, man." Raider looked around the yard, his substance-laced grin topped by nearly shut eyes.

"She's not my sister." Renji took the lid off the grill to see the charcoal that was settling into a low flame.

Raider hung one arm over the fence, his finger stuck in the neck of a glass beer bottle. "The chick with the Jeep? Thought she was your sister, man."

Renji's jaw tightened as he nodded. "_She's_ my sister. Leave her alone."

"She got a boyfriend?"

"Yup."

"A serious one?"

Renji looked to the long handled tongs and barbeque fork on the picnic table, tempted to give the last item a quick fling into Raider's ridiculous face. "Yeah. Serious. Now get lost."

The beer bottle slipped off Raider's finger and onto Renji's side of the yard.

"Shit." Raider disappeared over the hedges.

Renji mumbled a curse as he crossed the drive and threw the bottle over the hedge. A muted _"Ow!"_ came from the other side, followed by a _"Thanks!"_

A moment later Raider had popped up over the hedges again. "Hey, does your basement leak, man?"

Renji was back at the grill, willing himself not to hurt the guy. "No."

"Mine does, after all that rain. Standing water in a couple of spots, and, shit, does it smell bad. Like something died."

Renji looked to him.

* * *

Orihime nodded as Meg unveiled the potato salad in the kitchen. She leaned closer to the pale whitish lumps of potatoes and sauce.

"No, I've never had it."

Meg smiled wide. "I love it. My Mom's recipe."

Leah was on the other side of Orihime, frosting her gelatin cake that was covered by vanilla pudding with another layer of whipped cream topping. "What kind of melon did you bring?"

"All kinds. Honeydew, cantaloupe, and watermelon."

Orihime nodded as Meg opened the lid of the large plastic bowl to show her the balled melon. She looked to Leah. "What does yellow cake taste like?"

"Uh, well, it's a butter cake, with strawberry gelatin dripped through it." She finished smoothing on the white cream topping. "So, strawberry, I guess."

Orihime nodded. "Renji said the grill is about ready."

Leah looked out the kitchen window to see him standing at the grill, looking rather angrily at the neighbor's yard north. She glanced to Orihime as Meg made room for the bowl of melon in the refrigerator. Her tone lowered. "How're your headaches?"

"All gone."

"How's Renji's arm?"

Orihime nodded, her tone hushed. "Good. We wrapped it up, like you said."

"Good."

The back door opened suddenly and Renji looked in at them. "Hi," he said to Leah, and then turned to Orihime. "I'm going over to Raider's for a minute. I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

"Hai. Yes," she said.

He disappeared back out the door. Meg raised an eyebrow at Orihime. "What's all that about, hmm?"

"Our neighbor, I guess." Orihime went to the refrigerator and brought out the vegetables from the crisper.

"Everyone knows Raider is a druggie. Sells, too," Meg said, nodding.

Leah made a skeptical face. "Does he do that kind of stuff?"

"Who?" Orihime frowned.

"Renji."

Orihime giggled. "Of course not."

Leah nodded, fingers taping the cutting board before her, taking the zucchini Orihime handed her. "How do you want these cut?"

"Oh, for skewering." Orihime looked to Meg as the blonde girl pulled a cutting board closer and handed Leah a large knife. "Do you want to do the peppers?"

Meg nodded. Orihime pushed two green peppers to her and looked through the silverware drawer for a can opener. Leah looked to the window to see Renji and Raider standing in the latter's back yard past the tallest of the hedges near the lower spots of the fence, both gesturing to his house, and then the yard.

She looked back down to the squash. "You know that guy you thought you saw at the farmers market, Inoue?"

Orihime fit the opener over the can lid and nodded. "But I was mistaken." She didn't believe it, even as she said it. There was too much in the air, too dense of a feeling lately for her to completely dismiss it, despite what Renji told her.

"I think I saw him in town. Friday."

Orihime paused turning the can opener. "Where? Here?"

Leah stopped slicing the green vegetable. "He said his name was Uryû Ishida."

Orihime's hand slipped off the opener, and she fumbled with it. "You saw Ishida?"

"Who's Ishida?" Meg wondered as she cut the top off the peppers and removed the seeds and pith from inside.

Leah looked to Orihime, letting her answer.

Orihime carefully took the metal lid off the can of pineapple. "He was a friend from the exchange student program," she said lowly, "but I don't see how he could be here. Are you sure, Leah?"

She saw the hopeful look in Orihime's eyes and immediately regretted lying to the quiet Japanese teen who'd stopped her the few days before -- and for sending Danielle out to the Manic Groove's dining room Saturday to say she wasn't working when she saw him sitting at a small table, alone.

Orihime listened over the next few minutes as Leah told her of the meeting, the brunette girl hesitant to tell much, recalling Renji's reaction to the news story on the radio that Friday, and Meg's growing curiosity as she listened in.

Orihime nodded, staring at the pineapple chunks in the tin can. "So you think he'll be back? I do want to see him, Leah."

She nodded. "He was very persistent. He told Danielle he'd be in Tuesday, when I work next."

Meg smiled. "Inoue, you're blushing! You do know him."

Orihime put a hand to her warm cheek. "Hai. What time do you work, Leah? I'll have Renji take me there."

They looked to the back door as Renji stepped in, returning their assorted looks of conspiratorial agreement. He grinned. "Raider's got septic problems. In his basement."

Meg frowned. Leah wrinkled her face in disgust. He looked over the preparations. "How long until that's ready to go out?"

Orihime couldn't hide her smile at thoughts of a certain shy classmate she knew was indeed in Brooklyn. "Ten minutes."

He nodded and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator before going back outside.

Meg turned to Orihime. "He's happy about Raider's septic tank problem?"

"Hmm?" Orihime pulled her thoughts back to her friends. "Oh. I think he's just glad it isn't ours." She glanced to the garage and smiled quickly. "That's all."

Renji noticed the change in Orihime's demeanor as soon as the girls brought the platter of shish kabobs out to the back yard. Her usual smile was replaced by a brighter one that lit her eyes, and he knew there was more to it than the absence of headaches.

He stood at the grill as they put foam plates and condiments on the picnic table, chatting blithely between them. When she met him with the platter, she leaned closer.

"Leah saw Ishida," she said softly, her eyes large. She nodded. "Friday, Renji. He's really here."

_So that was it,_ he thought, his movements halting. He remembered to take the platter from her. "Are you sure, Orihime?"

She nodded vigorously. "He told her his name. I think we can tell her everything, Renji."

He knew she couldn't mean everything. Not _everything_. He looked back to the picnic table where Leah and Meg stood, talking. "What have you told Meg?"

She shook her head. "Not much."

"Keep it that way, just until we can figure this out."

She smiled. "Okay."

He turned back to the grill as she joined her friends, then glanced at them out of the corner of his eye, wondering for a moment if they had an agreed upon dress code or if it was standard issue for girls their age to wear the capris and frilly t-shirts on any given day. He carefully set a dozen skewers of meat, vegetables, and pineapple chunks across the hot grill surface. He was more relieved than he'd cared to admit that Raider's problems were his own, and not a result of the moldering corpse in the garage. He'd only taken a few steps into the neighbor's stairwell entry before knowing the smell leaching up from the depths was not human rot. It was feces.

With all the other questionable smells coming from Raider's house, he could see how the guy could confuse one more. The whole place had smelled of off-color contraband, and had been none too clean.

"Hi," Leah said from his side as he positioned one of the skewers better over the hot gray coals.

"Hi."

"How's the arm?"

"Good." He saw her eyes go to the black point of a tattoo that showed below his t-shirt sleeve.

"Your folks gone again?"

He watched her eyes, but she seemed only to be asking. "Yeah. Mom's picking Dad up from the airport."

She nodded. "Is Gwen coming by?"

"No." He glanced to Orihime and Meg as they went back into the house. He took a drink of the beer resting on the grill's slat board side tray. "What did you bring today?"

"Strawberry Jello cake."

_Dammit, strawberry_, he thought. He was about to say something more, but their attention went to the driveway as a car was heard pulling in.

"Tell Orihime to..." He stopped as the long older model, champagne colored Cadillac rolled into the drive, halting behind the truck by the garage. It took Renji a moment to recognize Shunsui Kyouraku behind the steering wheel.

"Who's that?" Leah asked.

Shunsui opened the wide door and got out, slamming it shut and looking to Renji with a large, lazy smile on his half-shaven face. In place of his usual straw hat was a canvas one of fly-fishing style -- minus the lures -- and on his feet were brown leather sandals. In between, a loose fitting red half unbuttoned shirt that was printed with white and yellow hibiscus over his khaki Bermuda shorts.

"Renji! _Son_!" he said with a wave.

"My Dad," Renji said with disbelief. He hadn't been called _son_ by anyone since he and Rukia had been starving together, living in the alleys of Rukongai, but that wasn't what jolted him now.

"Oh, your mother," Shunsui said, hurriedly rounding the long hood of the Cadillac to open the passenger side door.

"That's your dad?" Leah's voice was nearly as dumbstruck as Renji's.

"Yeah..." A hissing sound came from the grill, and he looked back to it, turning a skewer that's pineapple was charring. "They're home early."

He turned to see Shunsui open the car door and smile at the small figure inside, speaking mutedly, lovingly, as Nanao stepped out. Shunsui closed the door and put an arm lock around his vice-captain's shoulders that nearly lifted her from the ground. She pushed an elbow into his side and he eased off a bit.

Undeterred, Shunsui surveyed the yard quickly. "A hibachi-que. We're just in time."

Nanao said something in correction, but Shunsui just nodded, waving it aside. He walked them to where Renji stood at the grill with Leah. Nanao's girlish figure was at home in her denim skirt and peach-colored tank top, her glasses a less severe design in gold rims. Shunsui stuck a hand out to Renji and shook his a few exaggerated times, then reached for Leah's.

"And you are ...?" he said, leaning over, smiling at her.

"This is Leah, uh ..." Renji looked to her.

"Porter," she said as Shunsui's hands clasped over hers in a gentle movement, a ring matching Renji's on his left hand.

"Leah?" He lifted an eyebrow at Renji.

"Inoue's friend from school," the younger man clarified. He glanced at Leah, unable to look at the captain as he said the words. "This is my Dad."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith," Leah said, looking to Nanao as Shunsui's hand dropped hers.

"And my mother," Renji said. "She picked him up from the airport early. I guess."

"Yes, yes." Nanao shook Leah's hand, smiling at the bewildered girl, her two-carat ring flashing in the sunlight. "Pleased to meet you, Leah."

"Hi," Leah said, looking to the back door as Orihime and Meg appeared on the porch there. Both girls looked to the newcomers with surprise, dishes in their hands.

Shunsui's arm went back around Nanao in a tight hold, at which the slight woman accepted it, moving with him toward the house. "Inoue, I see you've made friends!"

Orihime bowed deeply when Shunsui and Nanao reached the back door, introducing Meg -- in rapid Japanese -- to each and detailing how she really _really_ liked living with them in America.

Leah looked to Renji. "Your folks seem nice."

He watched Orihime, hoping all his careful, precariously built lies wouldn't unravel in a burst of honesty. He looked to Leah, recalling her comment, wondering why she was more accepting of the situation than he was.

"Think so?"

She nodded.

"Renji!" Shunsui turned with a sway, making the ponytail that was loosely gathered at his back in sections tied with colorfully embroidered strands swing out, nearly brushing Nanao. "Our bags are in the back seat!"

Orihime and Meg were still recovering from the brisk handshake from Mr. Smith, and moved off to the table with their dishes. Orihime looked to Renji, then back to Shunsui following Nanao as they disappeared into the house.

Renji handed the grill tongs to Leah. "Don't let anything catch fire."

She looked after the couple who'd gone into the house, then looked to Renji at the long car as he jerked open the passenger side rear door. For a moment she stood stunned by the genetic grab-bag that was the Smith family, then she turned back to the grill.

Renji pulled the two overnight bags from the Cadillac to find them inordinately light, a dozen thoughts racing through his head. He shut the door and looked to Leah, who had her back to him at the grill. Orihime and Meg were still looking at the back door, Meg's face in shell-shocked soldier mode. Orihime was speaking, giggling nervously. _Probably in Japanese_, he thought. Meg just nodded.

Renji entered the kitchen to find the Eighth Division captain and vice-captain in a stand-off at the sink, her speaking in animated Japanese, her politeness level dipping. Renji cleared his throat and Shunsui looked to him, Nanao's small hands on her hips as she glared at the taller man posing as her husband.

"Captain Kyouraku --"

"Cut the formalities, Renji. This is supposed to look familial," the man said, smiling widely, looking to his lieutenant. "Isn't it, Nanao, my lovely?"

One eye twitched behind her glasses as she stared up at him. She looked to Renji holding the bags. "Those can go ...go..." She looked horrified at the next words that came to mind.

"Don't worry. Son. We're not moving in." Shunsui looked out the window at the three girls in the backyard. "You haven't returned any calls from Soul Society, and we've tried six times since the airport and you've not answered."

Renji shook his head. "Nothing gets through out here."

"You're keeping up your reports?"

"Yes, sir."

"We would have let you know we were on our way, if your communications were open." He looked around the room. "Everything under control here?"

"Everything is fine. The situation is working with Orihime being an exchange student for school."

"Good to hear." Shunsui nodded, scratching the day's growth of beard at his neck, looking to the bags Renji held. "Where can we put those? For appearances."

Renji led them through the small house to the ground floor's unoccupied back bedroom, rolling his eyes at the room's sparse furnishings. A futon and a coffee table. He set the bags down and turned to see Nanao standing in the doorway until Shunsui gently nudged her inside.

The captain leaned one hand on the doorframe and glanced around, nodding, a pleased smile on his face. His attention went to Nanao. "This'll do."

She ignored the leer that settled on her. She looked to Renji. "Is Orihime adapting well?"

"Very well."

"She has friends in school?"

He nodded, only minutely aware Nanao had taken over the conversation he thought her captain should be having. _Nothing new there_, he thought. "Everyone likes her here."

"Grades," Shunsui said, as if he'd remembered something significant. "She does well?"

"Yes, sir."

Shunsui nodded, eyes resting on the futon. "Nanao, my sweet little bride, would --"

"You don't have to say that now," she hissed lowly, her small hands clenching in absence of her book.

Renji wished he was in the kitchen, the yard, anywhere but in the bedroom at the moment. They both looked to him, and then Shunsui entered the room fully, smiling dotingly at her.

"Nanao, my precious, go see if you can hunt up some sake."

"We have beer in the refrigerator, and brandy in the cupboard by the sink," Renji told her. "No sake. Sorry, Captain."

Shunsui sighed. "How do you get by? Very well. Whatever you can find, sweet Nanao."

She slipped past him and he turned to watch her go down the hall before looking back to Renji. "Long ride here."

"Yes, sir."

"These girls, Orihime's friends, how much do they know?"

"Nothing."

Shunsui's eyes dropped to Renji's bandaged arm. "Oh?"

"We haven't told them anything."

He nodded. "There's some concern about your lack of contact. Rangiku reported she couldn't reach you, even a few kilometers away," he said as Renji began to speak. "She didn't have any problems communicating when she surveyed the place before Soul Society moved you in here. Any thoughts on that?"

Renji nodded. "Yes, sir."

Shunsui glanced down the hall, then back to him. "Where are your reports?"

* * *

The next few hours went as well as any of them could have hoped. They ate at the picnic table in the sunny afternoon, blending lumpily into the other families on Brooklyn-Pierport Road.

The shish kabobs, potato salad, melon, and cake were consumed over that time, with Shunsui making no apologies for monopolizing the peanut satay Orihime had made for the kabobs, or his newfound passion for the tall glass of brandy and diet Cherry Coke Nanao had made for him. Leah and Meg were a bit on the quiet side, intimidated by Mr. Smith's sometimes overreaching presence. Nanao kept him in line, admonishing him a few times in a hushed tone, which only led to him leaning possessively over her, in an attempt to _hear_ what she said.

When the meal was finished and Orihime announced they had brownies to bake, Nanao's face lit up as visions of a spontaneous women's-_anything_ that didn't involve that pink-haired tot-in-charge warmed her mind.

"Sounds delicious," she said as she cleared the dishes from the picnic table with the younger girls.

As she left with Orihime, Leah, and Meg into the house with their hands-full of empty dishes, Shunsui turned to Renji.

"I have some questions about your reports."

Renji had seen this coming. "Which part?"

The captain looked to the building in front of the truck. "Is that the garage?"

* * *

Orihime ducked into the bathroom upstairs with Nanao, having made her excuses to Leah and Meg in the kitchen downstairs. She'd only seen the Eighth Division's vice-captain once before, briefly, at Soul Society, and hadn't known who she was at the time. All she really knew of the small dark-haired woman was what Chad had told her, and that wasn't helping any today.

"No, call me Mrs. Smith," Nanao said again, smiling, as they stood in the bathroom. "It's more natural."

"Hai." Orihime found herself holding her breath. Speaking alone to Matsumoto was one thing, but Ise Nanao was quite another. "Am I in trouble?"

Nanao's expression softened. "No. You're in no trouble. After Matsumoto's report, Captain Hitsugaya decided parental figures would be expected. So here we are," she added dryly.

"Oh, okay."

Nanao decided not to tell her that Captain Kyouraku had volunteered -- volunteered _them_ -- wholeheartedly when he'd heard the assignment proposed. "Shunsui tells me Renji removed something from the back of your neck."

Orihime nodded, her smile dimming. "I don't know how it got there."

Nanao gestured to the closed toilet. "Sit down. I'll take a look."

Orihime obeyed, and bent her head forward as Nanao brushed her hair up from the back of her head. She carefully peeled back the small bandage, nodding at the half-healed incision measuring less than a centimeter.

"It's healing well. Why didn't Renji contact Fourth Division before attempting something like this?" She gently pressed the bandage back over the wound.

"Oh, he did. Several times." Orihime related the incidents from the rainy night to the older woman.

Nanao nodded, watching her.

"I don't remember much, but I'm trying to recall my time there. In Las Noches." Orihime pulled her hair to one side as Nanao stepped back. "We got a blank book from Happy Dollar for me to write things down in. What I can remember. Kind of like a journal."

"Oh," Nanao said slowly, nodding. "That's a good idea."

They both looked to the door as Leah and Meg's voices drifted to them.

"We should probably go back down now," Nanao said.

Orihime nodded.

* * *

Renji had dug three feet down in the darkened garage's clay floor by the time Shunsui finished reading the first two reports in full. He sat in a lawn chair, his feet propped on the wall to one side, shining the flashlight on the floor between the chair and the newly forming hole.

It did neither him nor Renji much good, but opening the garage door was out of the question.

Shunsui sat back, placing the paperwork on his lap and stretching, leaving Renji in the dark, in the hole, for a few seconds.

The light beam jerked back to the hole quickly.

"How certain are you that this metal band has anything to do with the problems transmitting out?" he asked, leaning back in the chair.

Renji grunted over the shovel, dreading the moment the smell would become intolerable. Already the putrid stench of rot was getting strong. He'd tried to recall how the intruder had landed in the hole, so he only had to dig up one area rather than the hole grave, but he hadn't been paying that much attention to those details that night.

"Not much, but I think it should be ruled out. If not this, then it must be that chip Orihime had."

"Yes, that," the Captain said, pulling the hat over his forehead. "Might be, Renji. You still have that?"

"Yes, sir."

Shunsui thought for a moment, and then sighed and sat up straighter, flipping through the reports. "Have you anything else to link these school encounters mentioned here to this intruder and the female crossing-guard -- now that's just _wrong_ -- besides the intended targets being Asian?"

Renji dumped a shovelful of soggy clay beside the hole's surface. "No. Just suspicion."

"I'm not convinced they're related."

The shovel gave easier, bringing up a smell rivaling -- and winning against -- Raider's basement. Renji turned his head, fighting a gag reflex, and stood back from the stench. "I think we're there, sir."

Shunsui got to his feet, downing the last of the third of the tall mixed brandy drinks Nanao had fixed for him, and looked into the four-to-six foot deep hole, blinding Renji momentarily with the flashlight.

"Ugh. He's an old kill."

Beneath the light's beam was a soggy, slick mass of human tissue in later stages of decomposition. The slimy sponge that had once been human lent a fetid, air-sucking smell to the garage, making both men nearly gasp.

Shunsui held his hibiscus print shirt hem over his nose, peering into the hole. "Is that the hand?"

"I think so." Renji wiped his face with the bottom of his t-shirt, hoping no one from the house would venture out to the garage. _Egad, the guy stunk._

"Do you see the band anywhere?"

Renji coughed and used the shovel to push some of the dirt around, finally finding a dull gray edge of metal in the slippery tissue. It was still attached the parts of rot hanging from the bone white mess. He felt the cookout rise in his throat but refused to act on it.

"Bring it up."

Renji groaned, but obliged the Eighth Division Captain. He drove the shovel behind where he thought the band encircled the wrist, severing it beneath the hand. It took a few moments to work the metal loose, and another minute to scoop it up with the shovel. He deposited the band to the side of the hole surface.

Shunsui looked to the metal band still stuck with bits of greasy black, brown, and bile green. "Is that it?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sure of it."

"Is there anything else of value on him?"

Renji leaned on the shovel, trying to see the higher ranking man in the light that centered on the sloppy band of metal. "No."

"All-righty then. You can cover him up." Shunsui rattled the small, nearly melted ice cubes in his glass, taking a few steps back from the hole. "Do you think there's any brandy left?"


	18. Library Voices

It was after two o'clock in the morning when Orihime awoke from the frantic dream she'd had since her rescue. She awoke with her arms outstretched, fingers closing.

She sat up groggily, one hand going to her forehead, groaning. It had always been the same. But recently, within the last few days, the dream had changed.

She wasn't sure if she was reaching or fending. Grasping or refusing. Aizen had underestimated his hold when he sent Ulquiorra to give her the choice to protect her fiends.

To her, to protect her friends meant _at any cost_, not simply by appearing to aid him in his misaligned cause. The word sacrifice hadn't been brought to the surface. Not yet.

The word on her lips was a familiar one, but not the usual one when she awoke from the dream on other nights.

She sat up, sleepily rubbing her face, drawing her knees to her chest. The word was a name, and it was one that had been on the forefront of her mind lately.

She slowly swung her legs out of bed and took a moment to find her robe in the closet. She closed it snugly with the tie at her waist, and then found the blank book and a pencil from the desk.

"Shh," she said as she quieted the _Hello Kitty_ jingle's bell when she opened her door fully, stepping into the hall.

Silently she moved down the dark hall, passing Renji's room, glancing at him in bed through the open door. She was becoming accustomed to seeing him with his hair down, but the tattoos on his chest and back still gave her pause sometimes.

She ascended the stairs and went into the living room where the moonlight spread across the floor, throwing shadows of the trees outside from the sidewalk. She sat on the couch, curling her legs beside her, pulling the robe over her toes. She opened the book, sighing as she found where she'd left off. There wasn't much written in it, just ramblings on various thoughts of her stay in Las Noches.

_Nothing that would help anyone,_ she thought. The moon was bright enough to see the blank page, so she didn't need the lamp. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the pen paused over the page. And then she began sketching the layout of the halls as she could remember them.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Yip!" She flinched at Renji's voice, making the pencil spike a heavy line on the page. She looked to him as he came into the room, glad he'd thrown on a t-shirt before startling her. She glanced at the katana in his hand. "I just wanted to think for a while."

He nodded and went to the door, looking out the side window for a moment. "You want the light on?"

"No."

He looked to the kitchen for a moment. "Did you hear something?"

"No." She pulled her feet closer as he took a seat on the other end of the couch. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wish you'd told me you were coming down here." He grabbed the remote control from the coffee table and sat back in the couch. He flicked on the TV, taking a moment to switch among the channels. He decided on a late running West coast hockey game, and then looked to the book she held. "What's on your mind?"

She sighed, erasing the thick line she'd accidentally drawn when he surprised her. "Not much. Just, just trying to remember anything."

He nodded, watching the game for a moment. He frowned at the stats banner on the top of the screen. "Two overtimes. Long game."

She sketched for a moment, hoping to put the layout of the complex on paper before it slipped away like all the rest of her memories of that stark, cold place. "How many do you think there are?"

His eyes narrowed, rubbing his chest. The curry frosted brownies hadn't sat too well from the previous day. "You're not talking about the game, are you?"

"No." She redrew a line carefully. "Of these people that keep finding us."

He sighed, pushing his hair back, frowning at the game. "I don't know. Don't worry about them, Orihime."

She nodded. "Why do you think Ishida is here?"

"I know Soul Society didn't send him. Probably came on his own." He cleared his throat. "He cares about you."

She smiled, pink tinting her cheeks as she drew. "He's so quiet."

He shook his head. "Not always."

She looked at the floor plan she'd drawn, sighing. She closed the book. "Leah left the cake for us. She said it would melt by the time she got home with it. We can have it for breakfast."

"Sounds good."

"And potato salad."

* * *

Ishida left the house he was borrowing just before three o'clock. He'd spent the weekend thinking of how best to locate Orihime, and he was anxious to confront Leah again. He knew she knew. He just wasn't sure why she was lying.

The waitresses at the Manic Groove had been helpful, and it was on their hints that he decided to find out if he could spot Leah at the high school, perhaps speak to her before Tuesday.

He headed down the sidewalk, recalling where the high school was on his first trip through town when he'd arrived. His hand went to the button up shirt's pocket he wore over a gray t-shirt, feeling the hairclips there, frowning at thoughts of the few people who could have delivered them to him. He'd ruled out Kaname Tousen. The former Division Nine captain wasn't interested in Orihime Inoue so much as his sense of justice. Ishida didn't think the mutinous shinigami cared one way or the other about the human girl.

His hands balled into fists at the thought, the beauty of the warm day lost on him as he passed the well-kept houses along the sidewalk. Aizen was out of the question, for obvious reasons. Perhaps a disgruntled Espada or Arrancar. His scowl deepened. Perhaps Gin Ichimaru wasn't the traitor he appeared to be. At least, not a traitor to Soul Society.

He turned down the sidewalk that led to the high school, noting the short, heavyset crossing-guard that waited at the opposite corner, her sign lowered as she spoke with a waiting mother who had a child in a stroller at one hand.

Ishida looked to the buses lined in the semi-circle of parking lot before the school, their diesel engines humming in a steady drone. The schoolyard was empty, but the front entry doors were propped open, muted sounds of teacher voices coming from inside.

He stopped under a young elm tree, eyes on the building, hoping Leah wouldn't object to having a few words with him. He smiled. Maybe Orihime was even staying with her at her house. He wondered how they knew each other.

The end of day bell rang, and the sounds within the building grew louder with laughter and students calling to each other, locker doors shutting and slamming. It took a few moments for the first students to trickle out the double doors.

Ishida watched them mill around the yard, some going to buses, some to the sidewalks. His eyes moved over the crowd of students as they gathered in larger numbers, scanning every female form for Leah.

And then he saw her, but it wasn't Leah. Ishida's smile stretched wider as he recognized Orihime's copper-brown hair, the slight bow she made as she spoke with two friends. Her book bag was at her shoulder by one strap over her rose colored blouse, her denim skirt hemmed with a white ruffle at her knees. She smiled at the girl beside her, and it took him a moment to realize it was Leah.

A large hand clapped over Ishida's shoulder from behind, making him start, flinching so hard it nearly knocked his glasses from his face.

"What the hell are you doing here, Quincy?" Renji demanded as the boy turned.

"Ugh!" Ishida righted his glasses, glaring back in surprise. "Abarai! What are you doing here?"

Renji looked to where Orihime and Leah were still talking with Meg at the schoolyard. "I'm escorting Orihime Inoue through her student exchange to America. That's the official story. Who sent you?"

Ishida frowned contemptuously. "No one. Someone contacted me."

Alarm came to Renji's face. "Who?"

"I don't know." Ishida's eyes went back to the schoolyard.

"How can you not know?"

"I didn't see them." Ishida unwillingly looked back at the red-haired man. "They left me a note."

"What did it say? Where is it?"

Ishida was looking back at the students. "Oh, here she comes."

"What did it say?'

"In a minute."

They watched as Orihime and Leah broke off speaking with Meg and started across the side street to meet them. Leah nodded at something Orihime said, and then the latter girl stopped midway in the street, her eyes going to Ishida. A squeal came from her, and she grabbed Leah's wrist and half dragged her to the elm tree.

"Uryû!" She smiled, bowing when she met them, half dancing a few steps. "You're really here!"

He grinned, extending his hand, which she shook eagerly. "Orihime, it's good to see you."

"Hai, this is Leah. This is Uryû Ishida, my friend from the exchange program," Orihime introduced.

"Hi," Leah said, working up a guilty smile. "Sorry about last Friday."

Ishida nodded. "Okay." He looked back to Orihime. "Program..."

"Just go with it," Renji said in Japanese.

Ishida nodded, eyes fastened on Orihime until she blushed.

"Oh, we have to go to the library for a book," she said to Renji.

He frowned, looking to Leah. "Where's the library?"

"A block past the fire station in town. Not far," she said.

"Okay," he said, nodding.

Ishida hung back with Renji as Orihime and Leah started into the sidewalk traffic with the other students.

"What about this note?" Renji asked. For a moment Ishida didn't answer, his attention on the sway of Orihime's hair across her back, the smile she sent him when she looked back at him.

"Uryû," Renji growled.

"What?"

"I want to see the note."

Ishida frowned. "It was sent to me. It had a set of coordinates, longitude and latitude."

Renji raised an eyebrow. "That's how you found us?"

"With Urahara's help. A little."

"He doesn't know where we are."

"He knew what the coordinates were."

"Anything else in the note? Where's the paper? Do you have it with you now?"

Ishida reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the girls ahead of them. "It came with her hairclips."

Renji nearly stopped walking. "Are you sure?"

"I know Orihime's hairclips when I see them, Abarai."

"Yeah, I figured."

Ishida frowned at Leah's back. "She lied to me."

"What do you expect her to do? Pass out her friend's address to some unknown stalker?"

"Well, no..." He sighed, watching the girls cross to the next block. "I guess I should've expected it."

A new thought occurred to Renji. "Where are you staying?"

Ishida didn't want to say it, didn't want to admit it. "A place in town."

Renji frowned at the vague answer. "Where?"

Ishida sighed. "At a house that's owner recently passed away."

Renji chuckled.

"Hey, I don't have Soul Society footing the bill for this, okay?"

Renji nodded. "This place is a spiritual void, so don't be using any Quincy tricks out here."

"I'll do whatever --"

"I'm telling you, don't," Renji emphasized sharply, returning Leah's look as she turned to glimpse them at the change of his tone.

Ishida didn't agree.

They walked in silence for the next two blocks, until they'd reached the main four corners in town, and crossed at the traffic light.

The Brooklyn Public Library was like the rest of the town -- small, with a smaller budget, mostly made up of young reader programs and older ladies interested in genealogy. Renji and Ishida followed Orihime and Leah through the double doors and into the main hub of the building. To the right were the children's sections, with two conference rooms and a stair leading to more rooms in the basement, with a sign reading "Jump Frog Reading Program" at the stair entrance.

To the left opened the fiction and reference areas, with comfortable upholstered chairs in a square around a low table by the magazine and newspaper racks. Against one wall were three computer terminals, each with a pre-teen boy hunkered at the screen, engrossed in the game before them.

The librarian was a portly, bespectacled, gray dressed woman in her late fifties, and she looked shrewdly at the newcomers.

Leah turned to Orihime, who was looking at the train of five preschoolers heading to the staircase. "Cookbooks are in reference," she said, pointing to the left. "Come on."

Orihime glanced to Ishida and Renji, smiling at the first, and followed Leah into the tall bookcases. Renji watched them go, then looked down as a whimpering sound grew louder.

"Oh, hi," Meg said from nearby, waving and catching up to take little Josh's hand as he stood a few yards away from Renji, sniffling and crying as he looked at the red haired man.

"I see you've been here before, Abarai," Ishida said, looking to the boy.

Renji returned a wave to Meg as she took the small boy with the rest of the children to the basement staircase.

"He cries easily," he grumbled, looking to the librarian who was eyeing them suspiciously. He glanced around the room. The windows were large, their panels opening out into the bushes above the greenery that lined the brick building, a soft spring breeze wafting in through the screens. He headed for the magazine rack.

Down a row of bookcases he saw Orihime and Leah, their heads bowed over a large book the latter girl held, both nodding, speaking lowly. He looked to Ishida, who had joined him at the rack.

"What are you doing here, Quincy?"

"Finding something to read."

"In _Brooklyn_."

"I told you. Same as you, Abarai. I was concerned about Orihime."

Renji plucked a magazine with a car on the cover off the rack, thumbing through it. "I'm _supposed_ to be here. You're complicating things."

Ishida glanced at the librarian, his voice lowering. "I didn't know you were here."

"Well, now you know. Now you can leave." Renji stuck the magazine back on the rack and looked over the rest of the selection. "I can take care of this."

"Not until I'm satisfied she's okay." Ishida pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, frowning over the magazines.

"You think I can't do my job?"

"I've seen Soul Reapers work."

Renji glared at him. He picked a magazine off the rack and shoved it at Ishida. "Try to look like you know what you're doing here." He grabbed a newspaper and found a chair near a potted Ficus plant, looking to Leah and Orihime as they rounded one of the bookshelf corners.

Ishida looked down at the magazine. _Sewing Monthly_. He sent Renji a dark look, but sat down with the magazine in a chair to the left of him.

Renji opened the newspaper without looking at it, eyes going to where Orihime and Leah's voices were barely audible from a row of cases. He glanced at the news story on page three of the paper. _"'Three Gunmen Arraigned in Court Tuesday,'"_ a headline read. He looked to the front of the paper. _Pierport Crier_, the masthead read. He opened the page to the story again.

His eyes followed the account. _"'... rash of school attacks...four in the last month...total of seven...'"_ He frowned. The paper didn't mention the crossing-guard or the intruder he'd buried in the garage. That brought the real total -- and he was convinced they were all connected -- to nine. He looked to Ishida, who had his face a six inches away from the open sewing magazine.

Renji leaned closer him. "How good is your English?"

Ishida looked over the magazine edge. "Having trouble with a word?"

"No, I want to see that paper you have. The one with the coordinates you got."

Ishida's eyes narrowed at him. "Why?"

"Dammit, can I see it?" Renji looked to the librarian who was watching them like a sentinel on lookout. He glanced back to Ishida. "How did you know it was Brooklyn?"

"I didn't. It was a general area. I went to Pierport first."

Renji sat back in the chair and looked to the newspaper story. According to article, all the attempted abductions were within fifty miles of each other.

"Why you?"

Renji looked to Ishida. "What?"

"Why you? Why did Soul Society send you?"

"I don't know. Maybe Ikkaku won at Jan-Ken-Pong. Or maybe he lost. How the hell should I know?"

"Because it's of some concern to me that she's been stuck with you for a month, Abarai," Ishida said tightly, his tone growing louder.

"Hey, your lousy imagination can go to hell, Quincy. I've been nothing but proper! Ask Orihime." He glanced to the librarian as she put her hands on her plump hips.

Ishida leaned closer. "Why not Matsumoto-san?"

"She's looking after Tatsuki elsewhere."

Ishida's dark eyes opened wider. "Really? I didn't know."

"This isn't your concern. You should leave before you screw things up."

Ishida sat on the edge of his chair, the magazine crumpling in his hands, his voice increasing in volume and speed. "I'm not the one sticking out like a big red fern with racing stripes! I'd be better chaperoning her than all _this_!" He gestured in Renji's general direction.

He glowered at the Quincy. "_Racing_ stripes? Hey, I've fitted in just fine around here!"

"You made that little boy cry by merely looking at him!"

"I didn't --"

"Gentlemen!"

They looked up the see the librarian in all her grayness standing before them, looming in breadth and heather skirt and sweater, gaudy African bead necklace dangling as she leaned over Renji. "Library voices, please, gentlemen." She looked at him for a moment, then to Ishida. "Are you patrons here?"

"Uh, we're guests," Renji said after a pause. He looked around the room of shelves, seeing neither Orihime nor Leah. "Guests of Leah Porter."

"I see. In that case, please restrain yourselves while in the library." She gave him a quick wrinkly smile that fell off as soon as she was done with it. "Thank you." She sent Ishida a glance before departing back to her hub of counters at the center of the room.

She looked to the doors as a blond man entered and came to the counter.

"I'd like to fill out a membership application," the man said, his hands deep in his jean pockets, wearing a t-shirt and unbuttoned long sleeve shirt overtop.

Renji slouched farther into the chair, glancing to where Orihime's voice drifted in hushed tones from the tall lines of bookshelves. He watched the man at the counter nod and take the form the librarian handed him. The man looked to Renji as he sat in a stuffed chair two away from Ishida. The man reached for a magazine from the round table between the chairs and set it on his knee, then bent over the form with a pen. Ishida had his elbows propped on his chair arms, his face stuck in the magazine. It appeared to Renji that the Quincy was actually reading it.

The man with the form dug out his wallet from his back pocket and sorted through it for his driver's license.

Renji looked to another man who came through the double front doors. This one tossed a wave to the librarian, gave the rooms a brief look, and headed straight for the boys at the computers, leaning over one as he played the game. The man was in his mid twenties, Renji figured, the dark, handsome kind that would turn a girl's head. _And probably make a beeline for Orihime and Leah,_ he thought as the dark-haired man pointed at the screen where the boy was playing.

Renji's communicator beeped from his back pocket, startling him. Ishida gave him an irritated look. The librarian's attention shot to him. Renji stood up and fished the device out of his pocket, turning to go down a row of tall bookshelves.

_So now the thing decides to work,_ he thought. It led him to believe it was the chip from Orihime that had interfered with the signal. Shunsui and Nanao had taken the chip -- and the DNA riddled metal band from the dead man's wrist -- when they'd left Sunday evening, after the captain had finished off the bottle of brandy.

Renji pressed the 'Show' button and saw Matsumoto's code on the screen of the communicator. He glanced at the man with the boys, seeing him place something between two of them, moving down the wall to the third. _If it's food, the librarian will be all over them like a hawk,_ he thought. _'No Food'_ signs were posted all over the place. He looked down at the screen and entered a 'Hold' code and clicked the device off. He followed the shelves back to the chairs, where Ishida continued to ignore him, and then crossed the room to find Orihime.

A low chuckling broke out from the boys and Renji looked there to see red pinpoints of light jerking about the walls. The boys grinned, the laser pointers in their hands, chasing each other's lights and making their own shooting sound effects. He looked to the desk to see the librarian standing at attention.

Renji ducked down between the rows of reference books, following Orihime's soft voice as she '_oohed'_ over the photo of a dessert recipe. He made a turn at the shelves of biographies running the length of the outside wall and found Orihime and Leah with a book each. There was no sign of the dark-haired man.

"What do you think of this one?" Orihime held a book open to a page showing a whipped cream topped pie. "It's a turtle pie."

He frowned. "Turtle? With cream?"

"It's a dessert," she said, angling her head to see between the shelves of books, smiling when she spotted Ishida sitting with the magazine across from the bookcases. "He's really here, Renji."

He nodded, glancing to the other man as they moved along the back wall. "Are you about done here?"

"I am," Orihime said. She turned to Leah as they paused at the bookshelf end. "Are you?"

"I think so." Leah held two oversized books to her yellow t-shirt. "I hope your friend's not mad at me for lying to him."

He shook his head. "He'll get over it."

Orihime looked to the green dot of light that suddenly pinpointed on the autobiography of the Oatman Girls on the shelf against the wall. "What is that?"

"Some guy gave those boys up front laser pointers," Renji said, eyes narrowing at the beam. "But those were red."

Leah looked closer at the dot. "Why's this one green?"

Renji watched the green flick to Leah's shirt, just above the books. He looked back through the bookshelves to Ishida. The Quincy had lowered his magazine a few inches, eyes on the blond man a few chairs over. Renji looked to the man. Beneath the man's magazine was a silencer-equipped gun aimed down the aisle of shelves, at Leah.

Renji grabbed Leah's shirt, where the green dot had settled, and jerked her behind the bookshelf end cap.

"Hey!" she yelped, then flinched as the noiseless bullet put a hole in two biographies. Her mouth dropped open. "What was that?"

Orihime had pressed her back against the end cap of the book shelf, pulling her cookbook closer to herself.

Renji looked down the aisle to see Ishida quietly rolling up his magazine, rising from his chair. Renji looked to Leah, releasing her shirt. "Where are the restrooms?"

"Behind where you were sitting, that way." She pointed along the back wall of books.

The green dot of light appeared again, roaming the biography section. Renji pushed Orihime ahead of him, and then Leah, moving them quickly along the back wall as the green dot tried to follow.

"What's going on?" Leah asked as she hurried behind Orihime.

"Just go," Renji said tightly, pushing her until she crowded the girl in front of her. At the end of the rows of bookcases Orihime made a left turn to where the restrooms were housed in an indentation for the facilities. Between the doors were a drinking fountain, fire extinguisher, and fire alarm on the wall.

He shoved them through the door with the 'Women' sign. "Stay in there."

Orihime nodded, her hand taking Leah's as the brunette girl started to speak.

Renji headed back into the main library room, his eyes moving to each side of it. He saw Ishida standing behind the man with the gun, the rolled magazine stuck in the blond man's back, just below the nape of his neck, speaking lowly to him. The blond man nodded slowly, and Ishida reached in front of him to take the gun.

_Disarmed with a magazine,_ Renji thought. _Impressive._

The librarian stepped into view from the hub of counters, hands on her hips, looking to the boys with the red laser pointers at the computers.

"Boys," she said in a loud library voice.

Ishida headed the blond man to where Renji stood at the inlet to the restrooms, the gun now replacing the magazine stuck in his back.

"She's in the women's," Renji said as they passed, his eyes moving over the bookshelves and computers.

Ishida nodded, digging the barrel of the gun harder into the man in front of him.

Renji looked over the room behind him for a moment, and then turned into the men's restroom.

Inside Ishida had the blond man against the tiled wall, flat beside the sinks, hands at his head, the gun trained on his spine. He ran a hand on either side of the blond man's ribs, shaking his head.

Renji grabbed the man's hair and snapped his head around to face him. "Who sent you here?"

The man tried to shake his head, but couldn't.

"A name. A description," Renji prompted.

"Was his name Aizen?" Ishida asked, shining the green dot on the man's hand on the wall.

"I don't know names," the man said, eyes straining to see the green dot.

Renji looked to Ishida. "I think there's another one. I'm going back out. See what you can get out of this one."

Ishida nodded as Renji turned to leave. He got halfway to the door before it opened and the dark-haired man appeared. A green dot appeared on Renji's dark blue t-shirt, just above the yellow M decal before the man fired once as the door closed.

Renji sidestepped the shot, and it whizzed past him into the blond man behind him at the wall, sinking him to his knees. A second shot came from the sink area, but Renji didn't turn to see what it was. He sent a fist into the man's face, breaking the nose and one jawbone, and shoved him against the wall, ripping the gun from his hand.

He pushed the barrel to the man's dark hair, the green dot eclipsed, sliding him along the wall farther into the small room. He spared a few seconds to look to the three toilet stalls and two urinals, satisfied the room was empty.

"Who sent you here?" he asked, bouncing the man's head off the tiles with the gun barrel.

"I don't know his name."

Renji looked to Ishida, who was standing over the blond man on the floor, watching a pool of blood form from his back, and hand. He glanced at the Quincy. "You shot his hand?"

"It was just a reaction to him bursting in," he said, indicating the second gunman. He looked down at the gun.

Renji shook his head, jamming the gun barrel again in the man's head, bringing a few curses from him. "How many?" After a moment's pause, he moved the gun to the man's lower back. "Again, how many are there?"

The man glanced to the first man lying on the floor in an increasingly large puddle of red. "I don't know. A dozen, I think."

Renji's eyes widened. "A _dozen_?"

Ishida felt for a pulse at the back of the prone man's neck, shaking his head. "What are we going to do with him, Abarai?"

"I'm thinking."

Ishida set the gun down on the sink and began ripping paper towels from the dispenser. "My fingerprints are on the gun," he said, then looked to the bloody prints on the dispenser.

Renji pulled the dark-haired man from the wall, looking to Ishida. "Wash your hands and go find Orihime."

"In the girls' restroom?" Ishida used his elbow to turn on the water at the sink faucet.

"Yes."

He blushed as he washed his hands. "I guess if I knock first --"

"Shit, Quincy, just go! I'll clean up here." Renji forced the second man to the floor, pressing the gun back to his head again.

Ishida dried his hands. "_Your_ fingerprints are all over, too."

"I'm not going to be human long enough for that to matter. Get going."

Ishida threw him a look, and then left the restroom.

He crossed the water fountain to the women's restroom door, pausing to look into the library main rooms. No one seemed to suspect anything. Kids and the librarian moved through the bookshelves without regard for the scene in the men's restroom.

He tapped on the women's restroom door, then turned the latch and pushed on it, but the door pushed back. "Orihime," he said close to the door. "It's me. Open up."

Again the door met with force as he pushed on it. Behind him a shot sounded dully from the men's room. He pushed harder on the door before him, opening it enough to see a strand of dark hair where Leah had her back to the door, leaning into it.

"Leah --"

And then the door opened and Ishida half fell in. He confronted Orihime and Leah's surprised looks with a faint blush. "Are you okay, Orihime?"

She nodded, her eyes wide, focusing beyond him as he shut the door. "Are you okay?" he asked Leah as she held the books close to her chest.

"What's going on out there? Where's Renji?" She frowned at him, fingers clawing over the cookbooks.

"He'll be a few minutes." He looked to Orihime, disliking the fear in her brown eyes. "It's okay now, Orihime."

She nodded, glancing to Leah before switching to Japanese. "She doesn't know the truth, Uryû."

He looked to Leah as she frowned at Orihime. He was about to speak when a loud ringing erupted through the building, and the overhead fire alarm sprinklers suddenly showered water on the entire room.

"Agh!" Both girls shrieked at the cold water, looking to each other, and then him.

Ishida pushed his glasses up his wet nose, switching back to English. "I think Renji's done."

They stepped out of the restroom to find Renji reaching for the door latch. He looked over them quickly.

"Everyone okay?"

Orihime and Leah nodded and they all hurried through the library among the other people heading for the front doors. Most of the kids were laughing, some younger ones crying, and the librarian was standing in the center dictating _'Move along, don't push, single file_.'

They stood outside on the sidewalk across the street as the fire truck rolled up to the hydrant before the library and four firemen in bright yellow coats and thick boots crowded around the entryway. There was no smoke in sight.

Ishida looked to Orihime, her blouse wet and hanging, dripping onto her shoes. She watched the building, her fingers squeezing water from her hair. He took off his button up shirt and draped it over her shoulders as her dark rose blouse clung to her.

She smiled back at him, pulling the cotton shirt closer around herself. "Thanks, Uryû."

"Are you okay, Orihime?"

She nodded. He removed his glasses and wiped them with the end of his wet t-shirt.

Renji looked to Leah to find her watching him, the cookbooks clutched tightly against her chest. He wished he had a shirt to offer her, but he'd only worn the one. He could see she had new questions.

"Let's go home," he said.

They headed down the sidewalk as a larger crowd gathered in front of the library, the firemen giving orders and directing everyone to keep back. The incessant ringing of the alarm continued, making dogs in the neighborhood bark and howl.

They crossed the main intersection of town and Renji let Ishida and Orihime walk a few paces ahead, noting the girl's proximity to the Quincy, her arms crossed in front of her, fingers holding his shirt closer.

Leah dropped back to Renji, and he was tempted to try to avoid her, but didn't.

She looked at the wet ponytail of limp, red hair at the back of his head, following the tattoos down and then looking to his eyes. "What's going on with you people?"

He glanced at the couple in front of them on the sidewalk. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do, Renji Smith." She held the wet books closer. "Why'd you pull that alarm? What was all that about the laser thingies?"

"Some kids were playing around with laser pointers, and --"

"But the green ones were gun sights, weren't they?"

He grinned, not because anything was funny, but because she smelled good, even wet. "I think so."

She looked back to Orihime and Ishida. "Thanks for pulling out of the way."

He nodded.

"How'd you know?"

"I saw them come in."

She frowned, wiping a strand of dark hair out of her face. "I want to know what's going with her, Renji."

He didn't look at her until they crossed the next side street. When he did, she was studying Ishida.

She sighed. "Can you tell Inoue I said bye? I'll see her at school tomorrow. I don't want to bug them."

"Come back with us." The words were out of his mouth before he thought about them.

She lifted an eyebrow, stopping. "Would you tell me the truth if I did?"

He halted, looking to the Japanese couple pulling farther away ahead, and then back to Leah. "At least come back and get dried off."

She smiled, nodding. "I'm going home. I'll see you later. Abarai."

Renji groaned as she gave the Brooklyn-Pierport Street a glance in each direction and skipped off across it to the other side. She hastened along the sidewalk, waving to him when he raised a hand.

He followed after Orihime and Ishida, who were walking a scant four inches apart.

He focused on the back of the Quincy's head. _Welcome to Brooklyn, Ishida_.


	19. Fifteen Miles

They were nearly dry by the time they got back to the house that afternoon. The commotion in town was enough to clear the streets, and they had been almost the only pedestrians walking in the wrong direction on the sidewalk.

Renji unlocked the back door to the small house as Ishida looked around the back yard, eyes narrowing at the truck and grill.

"Hey, what's all the fuss, man? They busting someone?"

They looked to where Raider was hanging over the hedges between their yards, his sagging face minus its usual grin, a look of alarm in place.

"Fire at the library," Renji told him, twisting the doorknob.

"Oh." Raider heaved a sigh in relief. "Is that all? Okay."

"Who's this guy?" Ishida asked, adjusting his glasses to see the neighbor better.

"That's Raider," Orihime offered, leaning closer to him as her voice dropped. "He's a dreg of society."

"He is?" Ishida looked to Renji as the door opened.

"I didn't pick this place; Tenth Division did." He opened the door wider and went in, glancing cautiously around the kitchen as Orihime and Ishida followed him in. "Stay here. I'll check upstairs."

He moved through the small house, satisfied the main floor rooms were empty, and then headed up the stairs, only to find Orihime and Ishida behind him.

"You're supposed to wait," he told her.

It was Ishida that answered. "You're not going to go wandering around her room without --"

Renji stopped halfway down the second floor hall and turned to the Quincy. "Listen, Ishida, we've got a system down and it's been working well for the last month," he said as patiently as possible. "I know what I'm doing, so don't interfere."

"I see how well your system worked this afternoon at the library."

"It did work. No one got hurt." Renji turned back to the hall and led them to the end bedroom. Once there he looked around the room, finding nothing amiss. "Everything's okay, Orihime."

"Thanks, Renji." She moved farther into the room and went to the closet.

Ishida had colored a little, uncomfortable in her bedroom. He looked at the broken doorknob that still hung askew. He sent a pointed look to Renji. "What happened here?"

Orihime moved her clothes to one side of the rack in her closet. "Oh, Renji did it when he broke in."

Ishida frowned at the shinigami.

Renji shook his head, wishing Orihime had phrased it a little differently. "Come on. I'll explain."

* * *

They settled at the kitchen table, their t-shirts only slightly damp now, and began with the passel of unanswered questions on Ishida's mind. It took Renji a full five minutes to detail the events that had led to Orihime's broken doorknob, and when he was done, Ishida seemed only slightly peeved. Then Renji moved the subject to what had interested him earlier.

"Let me see the paper you got."

Ishida hesitated, but then reached into his t-shirt pocket and set a small slip of paper on the table.

Renji took it and studied it in detail, frowning. "That's it? That's what got you here?"

Ishida nodded, still looking over the kitchen, eyes resting on the two green and purple basil plants in the window sill over the sink. "Urahara said it was longitude and latitude, and he was right." His dark eyes dropped to the paper. "The man in the restroom at the library, he's wrong, Renji. There aren't a dozen; I think there're fourteen."

Renji looked to him for a few seconds, then down at the number fourteen circled on the paper. "You might be right." He removed the tied black cloth from his head, setting it aside on the table to dry better. "Any idea who gave you this?"

"Someone who knows what's going on."

"Maybe they're using it so you can find Orihime, and then they can find you."

Ishida shook his head. "If they know this much," he nodded to the paper, "why would they need to follow me?"

"I'm not sure."

They both looked at the paper for a long moment.

"Don't you think you should talk to that girl? Leah."

Renji looked up from the paper. "Why?"

"To see if she's okay, Abarai. She got shot at this afternoon."

"Oh, well, she's okay." He turned the paper over. Nothing written on the back of it.

Ishida looked at him with disbelief. "So it's just a matter of course that she gets shot at when she's with Orihime?"

"No." Renji read the suspicion crossing the Quincy's face. "I don't know where she lives, Ishida. I'll ask her tomorrow."

Ishida looked to the new doorknob still in its plastic packaging lying on the table near the wall. "How many have been here?"

Renji followed his gaze to the hardware. "Two."

"Hi," Orihime said brightly, her wet shirt replaced with a dry pink tank top, her denim skirt now exchanged for a yellow one. Her smile was genuine when she looked to Ishida. "Would you like something to drink?"

Over a round of soft drinks they recounted the incidents from the last few weeks, and wrote them down on a sheet of paper, bringing the count to eleven.

They sat staring at the list for several long moments, the clock reading six o'clock on the wall. Ishida sighed.

"Are you sure about all of these?"

Renji nodded, sitting back in the chair, hooking one arm behind it. "There were two gunmen at the Jasper Middle School, two at a bus stop in Taylor trying to pick-up the Chinese girl, the guy that broke in here --"

"The one you buried in the garage?" Ishida asked with distaste, looking at the doorknob.

"Yeah. The crossing-guard --"

"The what?" Ishida asked.

Renji related the crossing-guard incident as Orihime brought them a pitcher of iced tea and refilled their glasses.

Ishida looked at Renji with skepticism. "You killed a _woman_?"

"No; she got hit by a logging truck."

"Oh," the Quincy said slowly. "I see..."

"She wasn't the usual crossing-guard," Orihime said. "Oh, we have brownies."

Renji grinned as she hopped up to bring out the platter of curry-frosted brownies. _This will test the Quincy's resolve,_ he thought.

Orihime placed the platter in the center of the table and found napkins for them all. Renji watched the apprehension slip over the dark-haired man's face as he looked to the plate of brownies, half of them frosted with a thick, sweet reddish-brown curry.

The brownies weren't bad; it was the topping Renji had had issues with. Ishida blinked twice at the plate. Orihime moved it closer to him.

"Go ahead, Uryû; we have plenty."

Ishida smiled warmly at her. "They look delicious." He took one, the scent of thick chocolate mingling with the spicy topping. He took a bite, chewing slowly, then raised an eyebrow. "Very good, Orihime. Thank you."

She beamed, blushing slightly. "I've been cooking at school."

"Oh? Is this a recipe from school?"

"Oh, no. This is my idea."

Ishida glanced to Renji, a look of dare on the shinigami's face. Renji reached for an unfrosted brownie.

"There were three gunmen at the Montcalm school last week," he said, resuming the conversation, finger pointing to the list on the paper. "And the two at the library today. That makes it eleven."

"So there are three more." Ishida took a long drink of his iced tea. "Are you sure the others are related?"

"I don't have newspapers to the stories, but I think they're all tied together."

Ishida looked at the list for a moment. "I have the newspapers."

Orihime had just picked herself out another brownie. "How can you have the newspapers if you've only gotten into town?"

"The man who died, whose," he hesitated, looking guiltily at her, "whose house I'm borrowing, no one stopped the paper delivery service. There's a month of newspapers there."

Renji nodded.

They talked more, mostly in circles, none of them wanting to think about the possible other three assassins still lurking, perhaps even in Brooklyn, waiting for Orihime Inoue. After they'd eaten half the plate of brownies -- of which Ishida bravely had three, with curry -- Renji ordered a pizza and went upstairs with the new doorknob in hand.

He'd barely knelt at the door to the rose colored room, assorted screwdrivers beside him on the floor, than his communicator buzzed. He reached for it immediately, having forgotten all about returning Matsumoto's call.

"Yeah?" he said into it.

"_Yeah yourself, Abarai,"_ Matsumoto's voice came over the device. "_What's up with ignoring me? Got company?"_

Renji sorted through the screw drivers, frowning at the back of the plastic package's instructions for installing a doorknob. At least the replacement kitchen door came with the knob attached. "No. This is the first call that's gotten through. We were at the library."

"_Library? Ooh, sounds so domestic."_

He grunted in reply.

"_So, anyway, where's Shunsui? He isn't answering my calls?"_

"He probably can't. He's got the technology he picked up from here."

"_Oh? Yeah? The chip and band. Hmm."_ There was a muffled sound and Matsumoto spoke to someone else for a moment.

Renji looked closer at the diagram on the back of the doorknob package. _What the hell was a Phillips screwdriver?_ he wondered.

"_Well, I guess we'll just meet him at the airport. Tatsuki says hello to Orihime."_

"Okay, I'll let her know."

Matsumoto clicked off and Renji stuck the communicator back in his pocket, leaning over the broken door assembly closer. After working for a few moments with the flat-ended screwdriver to no avail, he was tempted to just break the damaged knob off. The communicator buzzed again. He stood up and answered it.

"Yeah?" He glared at the damaged knob.

"_Captain Hitsugaya, Lieutenant."_

"Captain Hitsugaya," Renji rephrased, groaning, wishing he'd checked to see the code of the caller first. "Sorry, Captain."

"_How are things going there?"_

Renji leaned against the wall and looked at the doorknob as he related the afternoon to the Tenth Division captain, including the emergence of Ishida. There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"_I see. Well, he's an acceptable addition, for the moment. At least now we know where he is. About the technology you've collected, Lieutenant Ise has delivered it, and Captain Kurotsuchi's report lists the chip as a tracking device, but it's malfunctioned, and probably hasn't been active since you're arrival there in Brooklyn."_

Renji stood straighter. "It wasn't working?"

"_Not for the last few weeks. Its sending abilities weren't functioning. It still had the capabilities for interference, but that's about all it was doing."_

Renji nodded. "I see."

"_Twelfth Division hasn't determined the metallurgical properties of the band yet, but Captain Kurotsuchi recognizes the technology. It was ours, at one time, and remains active from human tissue. Live human tissue."_

"Body heat."

"_Yes. As of now, you're staying in Brooklyn, but that may change."_

"I understand." Renji frowned. "Matsumoto contacted me, and she said Captain Kyouraku hadn't arrived yet in Germany."

Hitsugaya sighed, his voice taking on a near growl. "_Captain Kyouraku was retained by German authorities; we're sending Lieutenant Ise back out to retrieve him. Some mix up about undeclared materials or something. I'm not sure on those details. I'll call Matsumoto now."_

"Okay. Thank you, Captain Hitsugaya."

Renji closed the communicator, half expecting it to buzz again, but it didn't. He looked to the door, the _Hello Kitty_ dangle staring back at him. He grabbed the screw driver with the starred tip and set back to work.

* * *

In the kitchen Orihime had presented Ishida with another glass of iced tea as he contemplated the list before them.

"Oh, thank you, Orihime."

She smiled, regaining her seat at the corner from his. "I'm glad you're staying for pizza. I'm glad you're here, too." her cheeks heated at the words, but she only pushed on. "I knew someone was in Pierport last week. I could fee it."

He looked pleased, watching the blush fade from her cheeks. "Are you really doing okay here? With Renji?"

"Oh. Uh-huh. Everyone thinks I'm an exchange student."

"So you've been lying to Leah and your friends?"

She nodded, her features clouding slightly. "I don't like to lie to them, but we have to."

He nodded, watching her hands fold together before her on the table. "Do you have any idea who would try to help warn you of these assailants? Is there anyone in Las Noches who would help you?"

Her eyes dropped, a frown pulling at them. "I don't think anyone there would help me, Uryû. Aizen-sama would bully anyone who tried to rise against him."

He nodded, feeling in his t-shirt pocket for the small cloth wrapped item there. "I think someone would help you, Orihime." He withdrew the rolled white handkerchief from his pocket and set it before her on the table. "Someone sent those to me. For you."

She looked down at the handkerchief, frowning. "For me?"

He smiled. "Open it."

She nodded, unrolling the cloth slowly. Beneath her fingers the hairpins were revealed, never looking more welcome. For a second she remained unmoving, and then she clutched them fiercely, nearly bending them in her enthusiasm.

"My hairpins!"

Ishida wasn't prepared for the rush of arms, hair, and the rest that was Orihime as she stood and flung her arms about his neck, happily engulfing him in a consuming hug.

Her arms gripped tight until he could smell nothing but peaches and sunflowers, her head in jarring impact on his glasses. She removed herself just as suddenly, looking down to the hairpins in her hands.

"Oh, thank you so much, Uryû!"

Ishida dodged her abrupt bow, his face turning an intense color as she murmured to the hairpins, nearly oblivious to him for a few moments. He settled his glasses onto his nose better, grinning at her enthusiasm.

"You're welcome, Orihime."

She smiled, and removed her fish barrettes from her hair and gently slipped the hairpins in place. She touched them lovingly, and turned to the toaster on the counter behind her. She bent to see her reflection in the metal appliance. It was a distorted image, but she smiled at it anyway.

Ishida stood, feeling a little awkward at her backside in the yellow skirt presented to him.

She turned, smiling up at him. "I hope everyone is all right," she said, patting the pins.

He nodded. "Me, too."

* * *

Less than fifteen miles away Karl Rybak had found Pierport Middle School. He spent the sunny Monday afternoon winding his way through the emptying parking lot, mapping out the exits and bus loading zones, examining the delivery doors behind the building where the food and paper service trucks were admitted by way of a service drive.

He then made a similar trip to the high school less than a mile away, behind the baseball diamonds and football/track field. A typical set-up for schools, he was learning.

Of the thirty-five school districts he had had to investigate, only seven were left. He was only a little concerned he hadn't heard from his Employer; after all, communication was to be made only after he'd secured the girl. He looked down at the one-inch square mechanism he'd been given by the strange white-haired man with the squinted eyes and eerie smirk. It was simple, with only one button on it, without a screen or any other marking. The one button was only to be pushed upon completion of his assignment.

A press of a button that would yield a pound of grade D diamonds, or the equivalent monetary amount in the denomination of Rybak's choosing.

He looked across the high school parking lot, and then headed back into town to see what amenities Pierport had to offer.


	20. Almost Truth

The fire at the Brooklyn Public Library that was not a fire at all resulted in massive water damage from the sprinkler system, prompting an immediate township meeting to improve the fifty year-old extinguishing system to a water-less one, in keeping with the times.

The fire alarm had, however, shed light on a news story that brought out the best and worst assumptions across town. It was this article that held Ishida's attention as he sat in the truck with Renji the following Wednesday as they watched the high school from the teachers parking lot across from the building, amid the pouring rain.

Ishida shook the paper to straighten a wrinkle so he could see the rest of the story, which had taken up a good portion of the small town's news section. "According to this, Renji," he said to the red-haired man sitting behind the steering wheel, "the township plans to upgrade the sprinklers, and replace the seven computers and books in the estimation of $90,000 within the next six months, providing the next special increase passes tax-payer approval." He looked to Renji. "Nice going."

Renji gave him a sharp glance, and then sighed. "Couldn't be helped. What kind of idiot puts a water sprinkler in a library?"

Ishida nodded, folding the paper to see the story continued on an inside page. "So, this is what you do all day?"

"Yeah."

"That's it?"

Renji looked to him, slouching behind the steering wheel that was limiting movements of any kind. "Well, usually I'm on the rooftop like we were yesterday, but since it's been raining so hard today -- and you're still here -- I figured this is better."

Ishida nodded, eyes skimming the article. "It says here they " _...discovered two bodies, males, in their mid-twenties, in the men's restroom of the library. No identification present ... due to the extinguishers, much of the forensics evidence is absent ... in what appears to be a bizarre murder-suicide or double homicide."_ He looked to Renji. "It doesn't look like the authorities will be able to figure it out anytime soon."

Renji nodded, eyes on the high school. The wipers made a single trek across the windshield, blurring and distorting view of the building for a moment. "Any idea who sent you the stuff?"

Ishida leaned back in the seat, stretching his legs as much as he could in the confined floor space of the passenger seat. "No one you haven't thought of."

Renji nodded, watching the Gordon Food Service van pull into the side street by the school and take the service street around the building. He frowned. "Food deliveries come on Mondays," he said. "What's he doing here on a Wednesday?"

He turned the key on the truck ignition, but before he could put it into gear, the van returned and passed slowly by the parking lot, easing to a stop at the front of the school. The driver got out and hurried into the building, only to return a moment later.

Renji sat back and switched off the engine as the van pulled back onto the street and headed to the intersection where Brooklyn-Pierport Street crossed. The van made a right and went deeper into town. "Probably looking for one of the other schools."

Ishida nodded. "Is that Leah girl all right with getting shot at?"

Renji nodded as the rain covered the windshield again. "Orihime keeps pushing to tell her the truth."

"Are you going to?"

"I don't see how we can."

"You've got to tell her something, Renji."

"Why me? She's Orihime's friend." His hand was still on the steering wheel, fingers tapping it, nerves bunching until he wanted to get out of the stuffy truck cab and find a little trouble, anything to break the monotony that was Brooklyn. _Maybe it was just any human town for that long,_ he thought. He'd never spent so long in any town or city that hadn't involved Hollows of some sort.

Ishida set the newspaper back on the stack between them. They were mostly old papers that he'd brought from the house he was using, dating back a few weeks, but with every story of the attempted high school abductions within fifty miles. It still put the total at eleven, as far as Renji was concerned.

"Three more," Ishida said, giving a number to the subject on both their minds. "Has Soul Society given you any sort of time frame?"

"No. As long as it takes." His thoughts turned to Rukia, wishing she'd left more of a message the day before than '_Don't blow this, Renji'_. Word certainly traveled fast when it needed to in the Seireitei, even without the Butterflies. At least it was something from her.

Ishida looked at the newspaper that was folded too many times on the top of the pile. "Are you sure none of my fingerprints can be found in the restroom?"

Renji nodded. "Positive."

* * *

Friday marked the seventh game in a series tied at three apiece in the Stanley Cup finals. Orihime was anticipating the idea of entertaining for the evening, particularly since Ishida had agreed to sit through the hockey game despite the sport's nominal appeal to him. She'd convinced Renji to make a special trip to Busch's for supplies to make some of her favorite treats, which she took great care in preparing. And he'd promised to tell Leah the truth.

Well, not the entire truth, she knew, smiling as she opened the oven to look inside at the pinwheels baking. Tasty swirls of rye and pumpernickel with pastrami, brown mustard, and cheese, according to the cookbook.

She shut the oven door and looked out the sink window at the rain changing from a sprinkle to something more. She glanced to Renji as he came into the kitchen.

"It's raining harder," she said needlessly.

He looked at the picnic table in the backyard where the surface was dancing with raindrops, then shook his head at her unvoiced query. "I'm not picking him up. He won't melt in a little rain."

"I was thinking about Leah," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh." He frowned at her. "She won't melt either."

She nodded, slipping off the oven mitts, her gaze settling on the basil plants. She pinched off the flower buds that started to form at the ends of the stems, bringing the scent of basil to the room. She was about to say something more, when a knock came from the back door. Renji looked through the door's single-pane window curtain, and opened the door to let Ishida in.

"Oh, hi," she said when she saw him.

"Hi, Orihime." Ishida smoothed back his damp hair and handed her a plastic bag with a two-liter beverage inside.

"Thank you," she said, smiling, looking in to see the heavy bottle. "Ooh, Lipton Iced Tea, with lemon. Thank you."

Renji looked to each of them for a moment, and then dismissed himself into the living room. Ishida grinned at the oven hopefully.

"It smells good in here," he said. "You're cooking?"

"Hai," she said, smiling. "We made them at school."

He looked at the hairpins she now wore. "How are Shunshun-Rikka?"

Her smile broadened as she put a hand to the clips at her hair. "Quiet. We had a very small talk yesterday night," she said, her voice lowering as she glanced at Renji sitting at the sofa, flicking through television channels. "I'm not supposed to summon them, but Tsubaki had a lot of questions, and Shunou and Ayame were concerned about where we are now, and ..." She stopped, looking guiltily at him. "Renji said not to work with them now, to leave it for later, when we're out of Brooklyn."

He nodded, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. "I suppose that's best. As long as everyone is okay."

She found a platter from the overhead cupboard, standing on tiptoe to bring it down.

He reached over her and handed her the oval platter. "How has everything been here for you? With him."

She frowned at him for a moment, and then nodded. "He's okay."

He looked to the clips holding her hair to one side, fighting the flush that started across his face. "I'm glad you're all right."

She smiled, the pink tinting her cheeks. "I'm glad you're here."

* * *

It was almost seven o'clock by the time Leah showed up at the small house, and the rain was steadily increasing. She wasn't too wet, Renji decided, trying to allay guilt at not offering her a ride. They ate the delicacies Orihime had made, and half the spinach dip and crackers Leah had brought over the next hour, before Leah finally brought up the issue Renji had been avoiding since the hockey game started.

She looked to him during the first intermission break of the game on the television as Ishida made excuses to follow Orihime into the kitchen.

He ignored her through the first half of a commercial, and then looked to her when she turned beside him on the couch.

"You said you were going to tell me what's going on, Renji."

He nodded, giving her his full attention. "What do you think is going on?"

She raised an eyebrow, pulling her knee onto the sofa, leaning one arm on the back of the cushion behind her. "I really don't know. Inoue is an exchange student, but something isn't right around here. She won't tell me, but she said you would."

He looked beyond her for a moment to the kitchen, then back at her. "You can't tell anyone else. Not even Meg."

"Meg's a gossip."

"Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

She looked at him with skepticism. "Of course. Sure." She studied him for a moment. "You're serious."

"Very serious."

"I won't tell anyone."

He watched the rest of a commercial on the TV for a moment, debating how much truth was enough and how much was too much. He looked at the onyx ring on his finger, then back to her. "Inoue is here because there are some very dangerous people looking for her. She's staying here for a while, until thinks quiet down."

"In Japan?"

He nodded.

She looked to the kitchen doorway behind her, then turned back to him. Her voice dropped and she leaned closer for a moment. "Are you serious?"

He nodded.

"Those guys from the library?"

He nodded.

She thought for a moment. "That's what happened to your back door?"

He hadn't planned on her asking about the door. "Yeah. And it wasn't a dog bite."

"I knew that." She glanced at the katana still beside the front door. "So, why is she staying with you? How does your family know hers?"

He was a bit surprised she still believed that part of it.

She sat straighter. "Oh, you stayed with her family when you were an exchange student in Japan?"

"No," he said quickly, before realizing it was as good excuse as any.

She frowned. "You stayed with Ishida's family? That's why he's here?"

Renji nodded slowly. _Dammit, I think this is worse than before,_ he thought. He looked up as Orihime and Ishida came back into the room with a bowl of animal crackers and a bag of potato chips.

Orihime sat beside Leah as the brunette girl turned back around on the sofa to make room for them. Ishida sat beside her, making a not uncomfortable fit on the couch.

"Did you explain everything, Renji?" Orihime asked as she set the bowl and bag of chips on the coffee table before them.

He didn't think he had, but he nodded. "She knows you're keeping out of sight here, and that Ishida's family was my host when I was an exchange student in Japan," he said reluctantly, watching the Quincy shoot him a dark look.

"But how do you know Ishida?" Leah asked Orihime as the game started back on the TV.

Orihime looked to Ishida, who stared back at her. He reached for an animal cracker in the bowl before them.

"We're classmates at school," he said. "In Japan."

"Oh." Leah sat back, watching the game for a while. For a long moment there was no sound other than the announcers for the game. She frowned at Orihime, and then Renji. "So, it doesn't bother anyone that those men had guns at the library? Because it bothers me. Why don't you call the police? What kind of people are these that are looking for her?"

Renji knew it had been too easy, her acceptance of their ploy. He grabbed her wrist and stood up. "Come on."

She glanced back at Orihime, who gave her a small, timid smile. Leah looked to Renji when they were in the kitchen. "You haven't told me anything, Smith. Or is it Abarai?"

He released her wrist. "Either one, Leah. There's more, but it's complicated."

She looked back into the living room as Orihime sat back in the sofa, content at Ishida's side. She turned her attention back to Renji. "Why your family?"

He was tempted to tell her more, almost the truth, but he didn't think it was believable. "Our fathers work together."

"Oh? Oh." She looked to his arm. "So, it's serious, these guys that are looking for her?"

He nodded. "More than you know."

Her attention rose from his arm. "You're willing to get beat up and shot at for her?"

He looked down to her fingers as they rested on his bandaged arm. "Yes."

She looked to each of his eyes, and then nodded, unclasping the bandage hook. "Have you checked this lately?"

"It's fine."

"Are you sure?" Her fingers paused at the second hook when his hand took hers.

"Yeah, it's fine." He looked down at her hand, then back up on the inquisitiveness in her eyes, then shook his head and turned her back toward the living room as sounds of a cheer went up from the crowd on TV.

She stopped, looking to him. "Why won't you tell me the rest, Renji?"

He almost did, watching the pout pull at her lips, the frown coming over her eyes. "Maybe later."

"You missed it, Renji," Ishida called. "It's a tie game now."

He draped an arm over Leah's shoulder, watching her slight surprise, and turned her into the living room. "Come on."


	21. To Market

In a darkened room in Las Noches, fourteen small points of light were highlighted on a monitor screen, clustered around a mitten-shaped landmass on the Northern American continent. Eleven of them were red, three green. The red ones had been green at first, blinking out, and then turning red over the past few weeks, as failures in the Living World were noted and recorded.

On a separate monitor, the screen showed blank. If turned on, it would simply have shown the last known whereabouts of a now defunct tracking chip that had grown cold and nonfunctional, outliving its tentative, unsuccessful usefulness. Nearby, a small positional receiver awaited a push of a button from one of the remaining three holders of the green lights on the first monitor.

It was a simple set up, the man watching the screen knew. Simple to arrange, simple to manage.

Simple to corrupt, if one was of the mind to corrupt it.

The fourteen mercenaries had dwindled to three. Even with the hairpins and coordinates delivered to the Quincy boy, the odds in Inoue's favor were slim, but they were getting better. The watcher had expected something more of a reaction by now; some trigger-eager slip of a button, some half-planned attempt at maiming the target in an attempt to capture her.

But it hadn't happened. This time, Aizen had picked the more obedient huntsmen, if not the most intelligent or patient.

It was the last trait that kept the man's attention on the receiver. Orihime Inoue's whereabouts weren't entirely a mystery to him, but it had become one of the more engaging games in the dreary existence that had become Las Noches. The door opened behind him, and the man at the console touched a button, sending the three green dots scattering into different directions on the first monitor.

"Anything yet?"

"Nope. Not a thing."

Aizen looked to the monitors for a moment. "I want Inoue back before the War begins. If this fails, we'll go to the back-up plan."

"Yup."

* * *

The rain outside had eased off to a light shower in Brooklyn. Leah opened her eyes slowly in the morning of semi-darkness that lingered too late with the overcast skies. Her cheek rested on a warm surface, hard yet relaxed, comfortable.

Comfortable. That's what made her open her eyes. The dimly lit room of Orihime's living room met her gaze, the TV displaying some weekend morning talk show.

"... one of the more spectacular wins in a double-overtime game..." the television host was saying.

For a moment she only stared at the happy, perky faces of the male and female host couple, not recognizing either. She looked to the bald guest they were interviewing.

_Mark Messier looks a lot like Charlie,_ she thought. She focused, looking down at the hand covering hers. It was strange, but still familiar, and after a few seconds, she chanced a look at the arm over hers. It took a moment to comprehend anything.

When she did, she raised her eyes to Renji, hoping he wasn't awake. _Please don't be,_ she thought. He wasn't.

For a moment she watched him sleep, his head cocked away on the back of the sofa, snoring softly. The angle of his neck showed the tattoos that dissolved behind his head.

That's what they were. No play of lighting, no bend of his neck, no strange crease in his shirt, she knew. Tattoos. She couldn't determine much of a pattern of the dark thick black marks. Akin to jagged sharp shapes, but unlike any she'd seen before.

Not that she had much of a reference point.

His button up shirt was loosened a few buttons at the top and she could see more dark staggered black marks beneath, to one side of his chest, but indistinguishable with her limited view. No one had those markings without a story. She wondered what it was.

Her fingers unconsciously curled beneath his. _Don't wake up,_ she thought desperately, watching his hand close over hers.

Then she looked to him.

Renji looked back at her, eyes only half open in sleep, returning her confused look.

And then it cleared.

Leah caught her breath as his hand tightened, fingers entwining around hers. She hoped he wouldn't feel her pulse jump in her wrist. His look softened as his hand loosened, his bandaged forearm still in contact with hers.

Her attention went to the television as her cheeks heated, and then she stood up abruptly.

He watched the blush bloom over her face, grinning as she turned away. "Who won?"

_Good grief, who played?_ she thought. It was an important game. When did she fall asleep? She looked to the television. "He looks like your cousin."

He stood up and glanced at Messier on the screen, nodding. "Ikkaku."

"Oh. I meant Charlie."

He looked to her quizzically, and then nodded. It was too early in the day to start lying. "Yeah, Charlie."

For a moment they traded uncomfortable looks, and then she pushed a hand through her hair, digging into a jean pocket for her hair-tie with the other hand. "I'm supposed to be at work." She looked to the clock on the wall. "Shit. My Mom is going to kill me. I didn't go home."

He nodded, watching her twist her hair into a ponytail. "You'll be in trouble?"

She nodded, then shook her head, over-tightening the blue hair-tie until it threatened to snap. "She worked the night shift in the triage unit, so she might not know." A look of distress crossed her face. "Ugh. Brad."

"Who's Brad?"

"My brother." She shook her head again. "He's probably not home yet." She looked into the kitchen as Orihime's low giggle drifted out. "Will you say bye to Inoue for me?"

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll give you a ride to work."

"No. I'll walk. Thanks anyway." She looked to the kitchen doorway as Ishida's voice was heard, then back to Renji. "See you later, Renji."

He nodded, opening the front door when she reached it, seeing her eyes go to the katana behind it. "Bye, Leah."

He watched her leave, breaking into a jog when she got to the sidewalk amid the misting rain. He locked the door, deciding he should have driven her anyway.

Orihime and Ishida were sitting at the table when Renji got to the kitchen, their heads bowed, leaning close. They looked up at him, Orihime's cheeks taking on a faint blush, her brown eyes still on the newspaper spread before them. Ishida pushed his drooping glasses back up his nose, a shrewd look coming to his eyes when he seen Renji.

"Sleep well, Abarai?"

Orihime nudged his side with her elbow. "Uryû..."

Renji gave him a dark look and went to the counter where the coffee pot was finishing its ritual hot-water-making process. Nearby, the rice cooker was steaming. "Who won?"

"The game?" Ishida asked.

"Yes. The game. Did you see who won?" Renji put a tea bag in the coffee cup Orihime had already left on the counter for him.

Ishida's attention was already on the newspaper again. "No."

"Can we go to the farmers market tomorrow?" Orihime asked, turning in her chair to look at Renji.

He poured the hot water into the cup with the tea bag, then pivoted to lean on the counter to see her. "Where are your hairclips?"

She looked guiltily to him, one hand on her hair. "I really should work with them, Renji. Tsubaki gets so upset when I ignore --"

"Not until we're out of here," he said immediately, watching Ishida's expression turn defensive. "We already talked about that."

She nodded, sighing. "They're upstairs, in my room. Just resting."

For a moment no one said anything, the rain outside gaining in force until it was accompanied by a rumble of thunder.

"Leah said goodbye," Renji finally said, wishing the tea bag would work faster.

Orihime smiled. "I'll call her later. Can she go with us to the market tomorrow?"

Renji took the tea bag out of the cup and tossed it into the wastebasket beneath the sink. "There's not enough room in the truck."

"Sure there is," Ishida said, leaning back in his chair.

"I'll ask," Orihime said hopefully.

Renji looked to each of them, and then pinned his attention on the rice cooker near the window.

* * *

Rybak's luck was about to change.

He didn't know it yet, as he sat outside the Frosty Boy coffee and ice cream shop, watching the three teenage girls ordering their favorite frozen treats, wondering how anyone could eat ice cream -- even ice cream coffees -- in the rain at eight o'clock Saturday morning. He hadn't gotten to the side of town that would make his patience and dedication over the last few weeks pay off. No, he was on the wrong side of Pierport to find the farmers market.

He'd checked into most of the eleven Japanese foreign exchange students in the area. He'd narrowed it down to three, dismissing eight out of hand when the names turned out to be either male, returned to Japan already, or clearly not his target. Only Inoue Sakajawa, Nana Orihime, and Inoue Moriyama were left.

It was Nana Orihime that he watched now. She stood at the coffee/ice cream shop's order window, crowding under the overhang with the two blonde girls to escape the warm mist that had visited Pierport all morning.

Rybak watched her nod quickly at the ice cream treat, giggling with her friends, stirring the coffee-shake with the long spoon as the other girls collected their dessert drinks. She was short, her black hair cropped just above her shoulders, her slight frame smaller than her American friends.

And lacking the very distinguishing feature Rybak had studied so well on the photo of Orihime Inoue. The Japanese girl was without much of a bosom, instead being slender, nearly flat-chested. Of all the things Rybak's target could hide or change, that was not one of them.

He watched the girls move off into the intermittent precipitation. He pulled the older model gray Mercedes Benz onto Pierport-Brooklyn Street and followed the traffic into town.

* * *

Leah tried to steady her shaking hands as she frosted the raised donut with strawberry icing thirty minutes later. The metal spatula kept piercing the sides. She sighed, frowning at the donut as Sam watched her from his table in the back work room of the Cake Cottage.

"You're supposed to be frosting them, not cutting their throats, Leah," he said as she punctured the side of another donut.

She shot him a look, repositioning the donut in her hands, determination evident on her face.

"What's got you so nerved up?"

"Nothing." _Certainly not waking up next to Renji_, she thought, concentrating on the donut and the elusive strawberry frosting.

"You're practically rattling. What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Not that bum you work with, is it?"

"I don't consider you a bum, Sam."

"Not me."

She set the donut down, hating the way her very damp hair hung at the back of her neck. "Then which bum would that be?"

"The one from Manic Groove. Frank."

She shook her head and reached for another donut. "What about Frank?"

"Oh, you didn't hear?"

She looked to him, the spatula of pink frosting poised in her hand. "What did Frank do?"

"Got busted. Last night." Sam gave her a sideways glance as he rolled out the mound of dough before him on the table. "Figured that's what your mom was calling about this morning."

Leah nearly dropped the spatula. She remembered to place it on the counter before she did drop it. "My Mom called _here_?"

"You bet. From work. Said you weren't home when she called there and she wanted to see if you were here yet." He grinned, looking over her pink shirt she'd pulled from the spare ones in the employees' bathroom before work. "Where were you last night?"

"A friend's house." She quickly frosted the donut and set it on the tray with the others, completing the row. She turned her back on him and went to the baker's rack that held the trays of blank donuts awaiting finishing and traded the tray of frosted donuts for another. She pulled one out and made room for it on her table, scooting the pink frosting tub away. "We were watching the game."

"Oh. A late one."

She didn't look at him. "So, Frank got busted. Just a matter of time, Sam." She carefully frosted the first yeast donut. "What did you tell my Mom?"

"I said you were running a little late, that you'd call her later." He looked to her expectantly. She kept her focus on the donut before her.

"Okay. Thanks."

"Anyway, Frank will probably get some time this go 'round," Sam said, grunting as he leaned over the table, rolling the dough thinner. "Last time he got busted he was, what? Nineteen? Him and that other bum. Raider Bailey."

Now Leah looked to him. "I forgot all about that. Did they bust Raider, too?"

"Nope. Not yet."

For a few long moments they each worked quietly, watching the door to the front of the shop as the owner, Mrs. Simon, waited on the few customers. Leah's thoughts drifted to Orihime and what little she'd learned of the Japanese girl's predicament. She knew it hadn't been her imagination of Renji's watchful nature, not entirely, and now it made more sense. A little more sense.

"Leah," Mrs. Simon said again when she got no reaction the first time from her girl.

Leah looked up quickly to the older woman standing in the doorway between the rooms. "Yes?"

"Come out and watch the counter. I'm running the order up to the firehouse."

Leah nodded and dusted off her apron.

* * *

Sunday morning was warmer than Saturday, and the increased humidity lent a heaviness to the air. The muggy weather didn't result in any less of a crowd at the farmers market, however, and by the time Renji, Orihime, and Ishida found a parking spot, the street between the stalls of vendors was filling.

They waded into the visitors, Renji letting Orihime pull a few paces ahead of him, Ishida at her side, watching as she showed the Quincy one thing after another from each table they came to.

His communicator beeped, startling him as he kept one eye on Orihime and one on the crowds. He pulled it from his back pocket, watching Ishida look to him and turn Orihime aside to a table of items.

Renji looked at the code on the device's screen, then pressed a button. "Yes, Captain?"

"_Just an update on the metallurgy results, Vice-Captain,"_ Hitsugaya said. "_Where are you?"_

"Uh, we're at an open-air market in town."

"_I see. The metal band was an alloy originating in the Seireitei. It's definitely Aizen's work, so watch yourself."_

"Yes, Captain."

"_You may be recalled at any moment, so be ready."_

"We will." Renji watched Ishida show a bracelet of blue stones to Orihime, saw her nod with approval, and then her eyes widen with delight when he testily wrapped it around her wrist. "Uh, Captain Hitsugaya, Uryû Ishida is still with us."

"_Is that a problem?"_

"No, not a problem." Renji dropped a few steps back from the table of jewelry. "He's been an asset since we've met up."

"_Oh? Well, that's good."_ Hitsugaya paused. "_Well, if you need to get an extra plane ticket back to Tokyo, let me know."_

"Yes, sir."

"_Anything else to report?"_

Renji scowled at thoughts of the library. "Uh, there were two more. One incident."

"_Is Inoue all right?"_

"Yeah, she's fine. I think there may be a few more."

"_Can you handle it?"_

"Absolutely. Just letting you know, Captain." Renji wanted to ask a few more questions, none of which had anything to do with his assignment, or Soul Society, for that matter, but didn't.

"_Remember your reports, Abarai."_

"Yes, sir." The communicator beeped off, and Renji stuck it back in his jean pocket, watching Ishida purchase the blue beaded bracelet from the vendor. Orihime beamed at him as he clasped it around her wrist below the silver and blue bangle Renji had attached with the screwdriver.

Across the market, halfway down the street of bustling shoppers, balloons, politicians, and scary-silly clowns, Karl Rybak pinpointed one of the shinigami for which he'd been searching for a month. He watched Renji Abarai look around the crowd, and then step closer to the two Japanese youths at the table of handmade jewelry.

For a long moment Rybak didn't move, his twenty-five years of surveillance making him refrain from any hasty actions. He new every detail of Inoue Orihime's features, and he didn't have to get any closer to know the penny-copper hair and dulcet brown eyes of the young girl belonged to his target.

Nor was there any mistaking the red-haired man and Japanese boy with her.

Bingo.


	22. Raid

"No, no, don't pull in, Renji," Ishida said as the truck neared the house he was staying at in Brooklyn that afternoon. "Keep going."

Renji and Orihime looked at the brick house the recently deceased man owned as they slowly passed it. Orihime leaned closer to the Quincy to see the house better out his window, spying the car in the driveway.

"Who's that?"

Ishida reddened a little at her proximity, a waft of peaches following her as she resettled between him and Renji on the truck's bench seat. "The realtor. I think the surviving family hired a realty company to look into the house." He angled the side view mirror out the open window to see the driveway they'd passed. "I barely got out of there yesterday before she showed up. She's not done much; just snoop around and make phone calls."

Renji looked in the rear view mirror, past Orihime's head that kept bopping in and out of sight, seeing the brown sedan in the driveway at Ishida's temporary housing. He could feel Orihime looking at him, her hopeful brown eyes pleading without speaking. He didn't look at her.

Nor did he see the gray Mercedes following them from three cars back on Brooklyn-Pierport Street.

The truck continued on into town amid the drizzle of warm rain. They passed the alley that ran behind the Manic Groove, and Orihime looked down it.

"Ooh, there's Leah. She's on break. I wish she could have come along today."

Renji cleared his throat. "We could stop in. For a minute," he decided.

Ishida looked from him to Orihime. "Would you like ice cream, Orihime?"

"Oh, yes, if you do."

By the time Renji had caught the light at the end of the yellow signal at the main intersection in town and turned back along the side streets and found the restaurant's parking lot, he'd lost the gray Mercedes, quite by accidental luck.

Renji passed on ice cream with Orihime and Ishida, and let them go into the restaurant without him after he parked at a far space in the end of the lot. He watched them go into the building's front, and then made his way through the side alley until he was in the back of it at the rear entrance.

Leah was still on the restaurant's back staircase entrance to the banquet room on the second story, sitting under the overhang out of the drizzling rain. She looked up as Renji approached down the alley, a smile coming to her face as he met her.

"Hi," he said, jamming his hands into his front jean pockets, feeling suddenly that he should have brought Orihime with him.

Leah seemed to think the same. "Where's Inoue?"

"Uh, getting ice cream inside with Ishida."

"Oh." She nodded, and then moved over some on the stair to make room for him. "Did you get to the market today?"

"Yeah. Same crowd. Clowns and all. Raining a little." He sat down beside her and looked at her blue and purple tie-dye shirt that ended in fringe at the hem, and then up to her hair kept up in the blue hair-tie. "Was your mother angry about yesterday?"

"Oh. No, no." She shook her head, bringing with the movement the smell of strawberries. She offered him the paper cup she'd been drinking out of. "It's mostly melted."

He took a drink of it, deciding it was diet something, watery with ice. "Come on in. I'll get you ice cream."

She giggled, shaking her head. "I can't. Not on break. No mingling while in uniform." She tugged on the fringe. "Such as it is." She shrugged. "Mom was okay. She didn't know."

He handed back the cup. "What about your brother?"

She sighed, eyes falling to the tattoo at his neck. "He didn't get home until later." She shook the cup, hearing the melted iced slosh near the bottom, and then looked back to his eyes. "Is Inoue going to be okay? I mean, with these weirdoes hanging around."

"Yeah."

At the end of the alley the gray Mercedes crossed, following the traffic in front of it on the street, opposite from the signal light, the driver unaware of Renji at the staircase in the alley.

Leah looked to the bandage on his arm. "Did you ever take the stitches out?"

He nodded. "Most of them."

"Most?"

"The ones that were loose."

"Show me." She turned on the step and set the cup behind them on another higher riser.

He unwrapped the ace bandage that had lost some of its elasticity over the last week to reveal the four inch red line that stretched over his arm. A few of the stitches stuck to the bandage as he tugged at them.

"You didn't use gauze, Renji?" She took the bandage as he pulled at it when it caught. She eased the elastic away, shaking her head at the few spots that stuck. "It won't heal if you keep ripping off the scabs." She carefully worked loose the bandage.

"Forget it, Leah. You're supposed to be on break." She didn't relinquish the bandage when his hand closed on it. "Finish your drink."

She shook her head and unwound the last section of bandage. "Hey, it looks good."

"Good?" He looked around her lowered head as her ponytail stuck in his face. "You're kind of morbid, you know that?"

"Hey, Mom's a nurse. She's got some real stories." Her finger traced over the red line, pausing on a stitch of floss still in the wound. "You've got a few more yet to come out."

"You smell like strawberries."

She looked up at him, blushing a little as she smiled. "I've been hulling them all afternoon." She sat back, tapping his arm. "You're going to have a scar."

"No," he said before thinking.

She nodded, sitting against the step behind them. "That's going to leave a scar, Renji."

"Yeah, well, can't be helped." He fingered one of the loose stitches.

"No, don't rip them out," she said quickly. "You want me to take them out?"

"No. I'll do it later. Take your break."

She nodded, drinking the last of the diluted soda. "I've got to go back in. My time is probably up already."

"Hey, Leah!" Orihime and Ishida appeared around the corner of the building down the alley, she waving wildly until the Quincy stood back a step.

Renji and Leah got to their feet as Leah and Ishida met them at the staircase, Ishida with one hand pressed to his forehead.

"I don't know how she can eat ice cream so fast," he lamented. Renji stuck the ace bandage in his pocket, shaking his head at the boy.

Orihime hugged Leah quickly. "I wish you could have gone with us today to the market." She turned her to the side and showed her the blue beaded bracelet on her wrist. "From the market."

Leah smiled admiringly at the jewelry, one finger one the cornflower blue beads. "From Uryû?"

"Yes."

Ishida colored a little at the mention, his eyes fastened on Renji as neither of them noticed the gray Mercedes making another pass down at the end of the alley at the street.

"Come by after work later?" Orihime asked hopefully.

"Oh, I've got to go right home," Leah said, looking hastily to Renji and back again to Orihime. "I promised Brad I'd do his laundry before he goes back to school tonight."

"Oh, well, this week some time?" Orihime nodded.

"Sure. You should come by. You've never been to my house," she said, then regretted saying it even as she did. "Sometime." Stevie Wonder's _Superstition_ came over the restaurant speakers and she smiled quickly. "I've got to go. See you at school, Inoue."

"Okay. Bye."

Leah gave a short wave to Renji and Ishida and went into the Manic Groove's back door. Renji looked after her, rubbing his newly exposed arm, and then to Orihime as the drizzling turned into a more definite sprinkle.

"Let's go."

* * *

Rybak spent the week canvassing Brooklyn. He started at the two car dealerships at the west side of town, giving both establishments a story about how he thought the carjacker that stole his truck may try to turn it in on trade. Both dealerships took a description of the truck Rybak had seen Renji drive, and a description of both the red-haired shinigami, and his partner in crime, a buxom auburn-haired Japanese girl in her mid teens.

The salesman at both dealerships expressed more interest in Rybak's plight after he admitted he was in the market for a car, also.

His story changed at Busch's supermarket. He went under the auspices of looking for his runaway daughter who was seen last keeping time with a tattooed man with a red ponytail. The story got sympathetic looks and reassuring nods from the deli help, the butcher, and a few of the cashiers.

And yes, some of them remembered seeing her with the red-haired man. They'd been coming in a few times a week for several weeks now.

"Don't worry too much about her," one kindly middle-aged cashier assured Rybak as he gave his story to her at the slow express lane checkout that afternoon. "She didn't look beat up or nothing. Sweet-looking daughter you have. I hope you find her soon." She glanced back down at the photo he'd shown her of Inoue Orihime. "Favors her mother, does she?"

"Oh, yes," Rybak had said with a pleasant smile. "Much more so than she does me."

* * *

Rybak slowly made his way through town with the photo and his stories. The north side of Main Street brought little response. The library was closed due to water damage, and the volunteers at the fire house couldn't add to his cause. The women running the theater and antiques shop hadn't seen his targets, nor had the bar owner, the workers at the cafe, the pharmacy, or barber shop. No one on the north side of town could recall seeing either Renji Abarai or the Japanese girl in the photo.

So on Wednesday Rybak began on the south side of town, minus the bank. He didn't want to enlist the bank's help until he had exhausted the rest of the two blocks that made up the south strip of stores, or after he'd made a thorough investigation of the junior high school in the afternoons. He didn't like banking institutions.

It was early Wednesday evening, after the third straight day of rain, by the time Rybak entered the Cake Cottage, tinkling the little bell that announced the door opening. Behind the counter Leah looked to him, smiling and smoothing her burgundy apron as he approached the counter.

"Hi, can I help you find something?" she asked.

He smiled back at her, nodding. He looked at the cupcakes in the case between them. "It smells delicious in here," he said, eyes going over the pastries and dessert cakes. "Maybe you can help me."

She nodded. "What can I get you?"

"I'm looking for my daughter. She's about your age; a little younger maybe." He took the photo of Orihime Inoue from inside his long raincoat and unfolded it. He slid it across the counter to her. "She's been running with a man I believe may harm her, and I'd like to find her before that happens."

Leah was already nodding before she even looked at the photo, and when she saw the paper, the blood turned cold in her veins. She swallowed, looking back at the photo of Orihime in her Japanese school uniform, knowing the timid smile and bright eyes despite the crease developing in the center of the paper. She looked up slowly at Rybak.

She judged him to be in his early forties, neither tall nor short, a slightly bulky build beneath the raincoat, sparse with his movements, clean-shaven, with dark hair and an everyday face that would have blended into a hundred other customers. Except for the glass eye.

It didn't move, but aside from that, was perfectly matched to his functional eye. She looked back to the photo. "No, I haven't seen her."

"Her name is Orihime Inoue. She may be with a Renji Abarai or Uryû Ishida."

Leah listened, nodding numbly, as Karl Rybak gave her a detailed description of a man and a boy she'd come to know well in the last few weeks, disbelief coursing through her as she tried to force her voice into working order.

"That's too bad, sir. I hope you find her."

"They've been seen in town lately. I thought they might have come in here." He folded the paper and put it back in his coat. "The Pizza Bucket worker said the man called Abarai has been in a few times."

"Oh."

"Not here?"

"No. I'd remember someone with that description."

"I see."

She nodded, hoping Mrs. Simons wouldn't come back from her cake delivery run while the man was still there, relieved that Sam wasn't due in for the overnight baking shift yet. "Do you have a phone number? In case I do see either of them."

"Surely."

She handed him a business card from the small holder near the register, giving him a pen. She watched him write the phone number, noticing he was right-handed, had no wedding band, and wore a simple leather-banded watch on his left wrist along with a seamless metal band.

_But not like Renji's watch,_ she thought. She smiled as he handed back the card and pen.

"Thanks."

He nodded, looking into display case. "I'll take two Bavarian Cream," he said, pointing to one of the trays.

She opened the case, hoping her nervous fingers wouldn't drop the tray. "Coming right up."

* * *

A septic service truck was parked in Raider's driveway when Orihime, Renji, and Ishida returned from school later that day. There was no sign of the lanky, stringy-haired man, but the large truck and assorted hoses running into the back door of the house was evidence enough of the problems at hand.

_It's about time,_ Renji thought as Orihime set about preparing supper that afternoon. Ishida had tagged along after school, not because of the realtor at the house he was using, but because Orihime had invited him for dinner, and she wanted to try out spaghetti on him.

It seemed like a good idea to Renji. It gave her someone to bounce a new recipe off of besides him, and the Quincy's presence put a smile on her face. He'd noticed she smiled for longer periods of time now, since the chip had been removed, and with Ishida's arrival, she seemed to have lessened the periods of moping Renji had attributed to a certain orange-haired classmate.

And it gave him a chance to read up on the junior high field trip tragedy out of Manchester. He sat down at the living room sofa as sounds of the light rain increased outside. He threw a look into the kitchen where Ishida stood at the counter, a knife in his hand poised over a cutting board, with a bulb of garlic before him. Beside him Orihime was opening cans of tomato paste, nodding at him, her hair bouncing as she smiled and spoke.

Renji glanced at the back door, satisfied it was locked, and looked back at the newspaper in his hands. The television was on, a newscast playing lowly in the background, second to the story he was reading.

According to the reporter writing the article, the Manchester Junior High School trip was made up of eighth-graders visiting the planetarium at the Macomb Museum of Aeronautics. Even with eight chaperones, two gunmen had managed to separate Nana Orihime from her group of four girls and whisk her down three flights of stairs before the museum security guard tasered one of them. In response, the guard was shot, but not before another guard had called the police. A short stand-off had ensued, during which the wounded guard nearly bled to death. By the time the gunmen were apprehended, Nana Orihime, an exchange student from Japan, was frightened, but unharmed, and taken to safety. A report from her host family claimed the girl was "_...cutting short her exchange in America, and going back home to Hokkaido as soon as arrangements could be made."_

The security guard had died of his wounds on the way to the hospital, but there were few other details of the Tuesday shooting.

Renji held the newspaper closer, studying the black and white photo of the two gunmen being led to the back of the police squad car. On the wrist of one, he could clearly see a metal band along with the handcuffs, but could determine no markings on it.

Much like the bands on the intruder he'd dug up from the garage, and the crossing guard. He sighed, and then looked to the two teens in the kitchen. Ishida stood closer than necessary to Orihime, his elbow barely touching hers as he paused chopping garlic, her hand resting on the counter as she stirred a pot over the stove top, her arm angled to his. Ishida nodded, looking back down at the bulbs before him on the cutting board. Renji saw Orihime's profile as she looked up at the taller Quincy, saw her eyes study his face, the small smile that started at her lips, the blush that had nothing to do with the humid kitchen that smelled of basil.

Renji looked back to the article, grinning. _Maybe that damn strawberry did have some competition. _The phone rang from the stand near the kitchen, and Renji answered it. He nodded as he recognized the voice of the caller.

"Yeah, she's here. Do you..." He frowned as Leah spoke quickly over the line. Renji looked to where Orihime was complimenting Ishida's garlic slicing. He turned his back on the kitchen, focusing on Leah's words.

"Are you sure?" he asked her, glancing to the newspaper still on the coffee table in the living room. "How long ago was that?" He looked at the clock on the wall. "All right. We'll see you tomorrow."

He hung up and turned to see Ishida was now watching him. "Leah said there's a man passing a photo of Orihime around town, and he's driving a gray Mercedes."

* * *

Raider Bailey's septic problems were just the beginning. By Thursday morning the basement had been pumped and emptied, and the bill sent to his landlord, but across town, dishwasher Frank had decided to cut a deal with the Brooklyn Police Department. Information began spilling out of the Manic Groove employee.

Raider didn't know what the day held for him as he watched the service truck drive away in the brief lapse of rain just before noon. He'd just sprayed down the basement and main living floor with two cans of heavy duty antibacterial air freshener -- which did a decent job of changing the smell lingering into something more floral -- when there was a knock to his front door.

He opened it warily to see Karl Rybak, who gave Raider the impression of a private investigator rather than a policeman, but still put him a little on guard, despite the gray Mercedes parked in the driveway.

"Hey, help you, man?"

"Perhaps." Rybak smiled. "I'm looking for a girl. My daughter, to be precise. Her name is Orihime Inoue. I've been checking the Brooklyn neighborhoods." He took the photo from an inside pocket of his lather jacket, careful not to expose the Glock in the shoulder holster at his side. He unfolded the photo and showed it to the man in the doorway. "Have you seen her?"

Raider's bleary eyes opened a bit more, a sloppy grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Inoue. Yeah." His attention shifted to Renji's house, and then back to Rybak before making an effort at a frown. "So, what do you want with Inoue?"

"She's my daughter," Rybak repeated, smiling at the younger man's lax demeanor. "Is she still living with Renji or Uryû?"

"Yeah, Renji, yeah." Raider achieved a frown. "But you're not her old man. I seen him. He's a big fellow."

"You've been a great help." Rybak reached into his pants pocket and found a fold of bills. He pulled off a fifty dollar bill and handed it to Raider. "For your time. Thank you."

"Oh. Hey, yeah." Raider looked down at the bill. "But they're not home."

Rybak nodded. "That's okay. I'll catch up with her later."

"Okay, man."

* * *

The police were still swarming Raider Bailey's house when Renji, Orihime, and Ishida pulled into the driveway of the Smith house after school later. They convinced Leah into giving her a ride to the Manic Groove after school, which made for a snug fit in the truck cab, but she'd been grateful as the rain continued for its fourth day.

Red lights flooded the neighbor's yard, and three squad cars blocked the drive at the street. Raider was sitting on the front porch, hands cuffed behind him, pleading for legal counsel, a scared look on his suddenly sober face.

"What's going on over there?" Ishida asked as Renji stopped the truck in the driveway near the garage.

Renji nodded. "Looks like Raider got in trouble."

For a long moment they sat in the truck, watching the red lights sweep the yard, hearing police radios squawk and crack amid Milk Dud's muted yipping from inside the elderly neighbors' house. They watched what they could see of the police and detective unit activity until the drizzle of rain distorted their view of the neighboring yard.

"Leah said they busted a dishwasher at the restaurant, too," Orihime said, moving her head to see better until Renji couldn't see past her at all.

He glanced behind them for signs of the gray Mercedes he and Ishida had been watching for all day from the school parking lot. No sign of it. He sighed. "Let's go."


	23. Hello Kitty

The next day passed quietly at Brooklyn High School. The few block drive to the building was done in a slight sprinkle, but the gray clouds overhead were heavy with rain, and promised much more later in the day. When they met Leah at school under the school's overhang it was a quick discussion of the man who'd given his name only as Karl.

Her description could have fit half the men Renji had seen in their month in Brooklyn, except the fake eye. He nodded when she told him about the car make, unsure if it was a newer model or older style. It didn't matter to Renji much, either. He wasn't very familiar with automobiles -- luxury or not. Ishida knew the model slightly better.

Orihime had listened to the hasty discussion before she and Leah went into the school with the rest of the throng of students. Ishida watched her leave, and then looked slowly back to Renji, and then out over the teachers' parking lot across the side street, near the volleyball court.

"He's only going to get closer," he said as they started across the sidewalk and into the rain that was now accompanied by low thunder in the distance.

Renji shook his head. "No closer than I let him."

"Hey, I'm here, too."

Renji nodded as they crossed the large water puddle that had formed near the overwhelmed street drain. He paused as they reached the truck in the parking lot, looking to the other cars and trucks in it. "What the hell does a Mercedes look like anyway?"

"Expensive." Ishida watched the few cars driven by parents slowly roll down the side street after dropping off students for the morning. "None of these."

They spent the day watching the school with close scrutiny, inspecting every car, every bus, every person entering the building. Renji left the radio on the county station, listening for any breaking news of abduction attempts. There was nothing. For the whole day.

Eventually the last bell rang inside, and the students spilled out of the entry doors to swarm the buses parked in a semi-circle before the sidewalk, as they had every other day. Ishida watched Orihime chatting animatedly with Meg and Leah for a few moments as he and Renji waited under the large tree across the street in the light mist of rain.

"See you later!" Orihime called to Leah as the brunette girl broke off on the sidewalk into town.

She waved to Renji and Ishida, and Renji looked to Orihime.

"Hi," Orihime said to them, her smile broadening at Ishida.

"Hi, Orihime." He took her book bag from off her shoulder. "You don't have to carry that."

"Oh, thank you." She fell into step beside them on the sidewalk.

"We could give her a ride to work, if that's where she's going," Renji offered, looking to where Leah was already at the intersection at Brooklyn-Pierport Street.

Orihime shook her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I told her that, but she said she's fine. She just had to pick up her paycheck from the restaurant. I invited her over for supper," she added hesitantly, watching his face. "I hope it's okay. We're making goulash."

He nodded. "Any problems today?"

"Uh-uh."

They got into the truck, and waited for the pedestrian traffic to clear the parking lot and sidewalk before dissolving into the line of cars made up mostly of other students packed with teens. Orihime waved to Danielle in the car behind them, clipping Ishida's ear with her elbow as she turned.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she settled back to face the front.

He smiled at her. "That's okay."

Renji glowered over the traffic facing him in the lane beside them, eyes searching out two gray cars. The occupants of both didn't resemble the description Leah had given him of Karl. One was a harried-looking woman with two toddlers in child seats in the back. The second was full of seven teenagers who were jostling each other as the driver tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

He looked to Orihime and Ishida beside him, noting the girl's contentedness with him, and the Quincy's easing bashfulness around her. It had been on his mind since Ishida had shown up in Brooklyn, the thought crossing Renji's mind, and he decided it may as well be spoken. _It's not like either of them are going to object,_ he thought, making the right turn at the traffic light. He waved at the hefty crossing-guard, who returned a stern confused look for his gesture.

A moment later he turned the truck into the two-story brick house's driveway, relieved the realtor's car was no where to be seen. He looked to Ishida as the boy opened the door.

"Can you come for supper tonight?" Orihime asked as Renji began to speak. "I'm going to make cinnamon muffins."

"Oh, well, all right," Ishida said with a grin. "I'd like that."

She nodded. "Good."

Renji returned Ishida's stare. "You know, Ishida, you might as well..." He looked to Orihime as she glanced quickly at him, the expectation plain in her brown eyes, as if reading his mind. He glanced back to the Quincy, and then sighed as his attention went to the house. "You might as well stay with us. We've got the extra room, and this realtor is going to catch you here soon."

Orihime made a high pitched '_eee'_ sound of glee, which she quickly smiled down, blushing as she looked from Renji to Ishida.

Who was still flushed, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Oh, uh, that wouldn't be appropriate...and I..."

"Yeah, well it's either that or I'll have to bail you out of jail when you get caught staying here." Renji thought back on Nanao cleaning up her captain's _incident_ at the airport. "It'll be better if you're with...not here."

"Oh, well, if it's okay with you, Orihime," Ishida said, barely able to say the words above a croak. "If you wouldn't feel uncomfortable about it."

Renji felt like he was eavesdropping on a marriage proposal. He looked with sudden interest at the house's Victorian trim that edged the front porch, waiting for the awkwardness to pass.

"Oh, no; it would be all right with me, Uryû," she said with a smile.

Renji sighed. "You can move in tomorrow. Give us time to make up the other room."

"Oh, yes! I know just how to do it," Orihime said, nodding briskly.

Ishida was oblivious to the misting rain that was now developed into a light shower around him as he stared at her. Renji glanced at him and shook his head, deciding they'd better leave before the boy ended up drenched to the bone before he could react.

"See you later, Ishida," he said, putting the truck's gear shifter into reverse.

"Goodbye, Orihime," Ishida stammered slightly as the truck pulled out of the drive.

"Bye!" She waved out the window despite the rain hitting her cheeks. She turned to look at Renji. "Thank you. I think it's a good idea. That way he won't have to worry about the family or the realtor, or the neighbors," she said as they joined the street traffic.

He nodded, glancing to the other cars ahead of him, and then to the few behind him. No sign of any suspicious-looking gray cars. No gray cars at all; just a silver SUV and a dirty white sedan.

"Did Leah give you any other details today at school about that Karl guy?" he asked as they reached the small house they were calling home. He looked into the half open garage where a stream of water was making a trek to the lowest spot in the clay floor. _Dammit_, he thought, watching the rain add to the drainage. He knew just where it would accumulate.

"No. She said she told you everything she could remember." Orihime gathered her book bag closer, looking to the inordinately quiet house that Raider had vacated so recently. "If there were fourteen, like it said on the paper Uryû got, then there's only one more left, right, Renji?"

He didn't like the fretfulness hinting her tone. "If that's what the fourteen means, yeah, but don't worry about it, Orihime. No one's going to find you." He saw her nod, a small smile back in place on her lips.

"I know."

* * *

Once inside the house, Orihime knew just what she wanted to do with the bedroom on the main floor. She quickly took care of her book bag, barely giving Renji time to check over the upper level as he always did after school when they got home before she stepped around him in the upstairs hall. She piled her pillow and the spare blanket from her closet on her bed and bundled them together.

She passed him again in the hall, her arms full of bedclothes, as he watched her.

"Hey, where are you going with that?"

She didn't stop, taking the stairs quickly as her mind moved on into thoughts of preparation for Ishida's stay.

"Whoa, hey, wait." He caught up with her at the bottom of the stairs where she was heading to the spare bedroom near the bathroom. "Don't use your own stuff, Orihime."

"He has to have a pillow and a blanket, Renji. That's just good manners," she told him with a frown, pushing past him into the bedroom. She dropped the blanket and pillow on the futon that was folded upright.

"Well, yeah, but not yours." _You'll kill him,_ he thought, then shook his head. "We'll get new stuff tomorrow for him. With him. He can come along. We'll go to that department store in Pierport."

"Oh..." She smiled at the thought, her eyes already taking on a dreamy, satisfied look. "That would be better."

He nodded. "Take your stuff back up."

"Okay."

He shook his head as she collected the pillow and blanket again and went back up to stairs. "I'm going out to look at the garage. I think we've got water collecting in the wrong spot."

"Okay," she called.

He looked around the spare bedroom. It wasn't much, but he didn't think Ishida was going to require much if he was close to Orihime Inoue. He glanced at the window that was half open. Another set of eyes in the house would be welcome. He just hoped Captain Hitsugaya would see it that way.

Orihime was back down the stairs and following him into the kitchen as he went to the back door. She turned on the radio near the sink and opened the pantry cupboard as he reached for the door latch.

She looked around for a moment in the pantry.

"What time is Leah going to be here?"

"Any time. She just had to drop by the restaurant for a moment." She took out two tin cans.

He looked at the labels. Tomatoes. Beef gravy. "What does goulash taste like?"

She frowned. "I don't know yet. We'll make it yummy."

He nodded, opening the back door as she put a hand to her hair where the fish barrettes were back in place.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to wear them. I wouldn't use them. They're not ready yet," she said lightly, looking to him.

For a moment he just stared back at her, until realizing she was talking about the hairpins. "Sure, you can wear them, Orihime."

"Hai," she said, smiling and turning. "I miss them. I know I need to work with them, but I do miss them, Renji."

He watched her go, and then left out the back door.

* * *

The rain water was forming a puddle in the garage, over the spot where Renji had -- twice -- buried the intruder. He stood leaning on the shovel, scowling at the four inches of water in the dip in the floor, making the slick clay even more slippery. He could either dig up another part of the garage floor and fill in the low spot -- which would create another dip -- or find other fill from outside. He decided on the latter.

The rain was increasing in volume, large drops spattering on his dark gray t-shirt as he looked at the ground at the back of the garage. Here the bottom of the wall of the outbuilding was met by grass and pea gravel. He sunk the shovel into the gravel and lifted it enough to see clay tightly bundled with grass roots. He sighed and pulled out the shovel. Maybe he could just shut the garage door for the day and worry about filling in the low spot inside tomorrow. It wasn't something that needed to be done at that moment anyway, he decided.

He glanced at Raider's house. Not a sound. No music, no laughing, no chance at a '_Hey, Smith, where's Inoue?'_ Renji liked it.

He looked to the other neighboring house where the elderly couple lived. From it came Milk Dud's squeaky-tinny bark-bark-bark from inside. The dog didn't bark all day, or all night; just for _reasons_, like the mail carrier, or neighbors, or school children passing by on the sidewalk in the front.

The faint jingle of the _Hello Kitty_ door pull from inside the house was accompanied by a clunk of being dropped. Renji looked up from the garage wall's base, the sound drawing his attention more than he thought it should. He left the shovel against the wall and headed for the back door.

"Orihime?" he called as he stood in the back door, looking out over the empty kitchen. The radio played on, the cans on the counter waiting to be opened. He looked to what he could see of the living room. "Orihime?"

Renji left a track of watery muddy shoeprints as he climbed the stairs two at a time. When he stopped at the hall, he saw the _Hello Kitty_ pull lying on the floor, midway to Orihime's bedroom. He glanced into his own room, and then proceeded to the rose colored room at the end of the hall. He looked it over quickly, and then spun around.

"Orihime!"

On the main floor he searched the bathroom and then the spare bedroom, his eyes resting on the window. It was completely open now, the mesh screen cut along one side and the bottom, moving loosely in the rising force of the rain. He went back into the living room, seeing the door slightly ajar, and then to the kitchen. He ripped open the back door, startling Leah as she dashed up the path from around the driveway.

She clutched his arm, right on the newly mended laceration. "I just seen Inoue in the gray Mercedes with that Karl guy!"

"Which way?" Dread washed over Renji as he threw open the truck door and pushed her into the seat, digging the keys out of his jean pocket, sitting beside her.

"Uh, north. Into town."

He slammed the door shut and started the engine, barely giving the reverse gear time to shift before he mashed the accelerator to the floor. The truck cleared the drive, barely missing a car coming in one lane, and Renji turned onto the street, stomping on the gas pedal again.

"How long ago?" he asked as Leah grabbed the dash board before her.

"Just a few minutes ago. She looked so scared, Renji." She pointed. "There's Uryû."

Ishida was running down the sidewalk into town when they caught up with him. Leah opened the passenger side door as the truck slowed, and Ishida jumped in and pulled the door shut.

"He's got her! Up ahead, at the light they made a right turn!" He crowded Leah as he leaned to Renji. "I thought you were taking care of her!"

"I am!"

The traffic ahead was lined up three cars at the red light, and Renji took the truck through the parking lot of two stores on the corner, weaving among the parked cars and pedestrians alike in the cramped lot. The truck veered around the car entering the lot from Main Street, crossing the sidewalk, grass and curb to join the eastbound traffic on the street.

Renji floored the accelerator, searching the two-lane street ahead, seeing only a few cars, none of which were gray. He fumbled with levers and switches for a moment until the windshield wiper blades began erratic, quick swipes across the window. He found the light switch, which illuminated the growing dark street before him.

"Where does this road go?" he asked Leah, dodging a car slowing to turn into the Manic Groove parking lot.

"Uh, east. A lot of little places. Manchester is next. But Detroit, if you take it far enough."

He knew Detroit. So did Ishida. That was where the airport was, two hours away.

The truck gained speed and headed out of town to where the road opened up to farm fields and sparser houses set back far on spacious lots. For a few moments he wove around the slower vehicles, all of which were doing the speed limit, until the truck barreled over a slight rise and came up on a car stopped, waiting for oncoming traffic to clear before making a left turn.

Renji took the truck to the right of the stopped car, onto the soft muddy shoulder, the passenger side-view mirror clipping off by a mailbox, making Ishida flinch. He pulled the truck back on the road, hearing several cars honking horns and waving fingers at him. His wrist grew warm under the watch band.

The rain pelted harder as dark fell too early on the landscape, the wipers switching frantically to keep up, the taillights on the car ahead merely smears of red spots in the distance.

Leah looked at the speedometer, which was buried to the right of the dial in the numbers out of her sight. She sat back tightly in the seat.

The heat on Renji's wrist eased off as the truck closed the distance to the next car. When another car from the opposite direction approached, the headlights shown into the car ahead, outlining two figures inside.

"That's her," Ishida said, pointing needlessly at the car in front of them.

The form in the passenger seat ahead slumped away from the driver, pressed to the door. The light from the oncoming car passed. Suddenly the car ahead swerved several times. The driver righted his course, only to repeat the zigzag. Renji took the truck to within a football field's length before the car was close enough to identify the make.

"It's them," Leah said, pressing her back into the seat again as the truck closed up the distance between the vehicles.

When the headlights trained into the car ahead within a few yards, Orihime turned in the front seat, the light catching the look of terror on her face.

"Ram it, Renji!" Ishida ordered, one hand braced on the dashboard before him.

"I can't catch it!"

The truck was within a few feet when the Mercedes swerved again as Orihime pulled at her door latch and Rybak grabbed her arm. The truck grill rammed into the back of the car, sending a lurch into both vehicles. They took the next curve of the road, and suddenly the car turned abruptly onto a side dirt road, fishtailing nearly into the weed and tree-lined shoulder as Rybak straightened the vehicle.

Renji followed, hands gripping the steering wheel that was still unfamiliar to him, the bed of the truck sliding into a small tree that shook the cab. "Where does this road go?"

Leah looked around at the farm fields on either side of the truck, not a house in sight, the dark inky on all sides, with nothing but mud fields separated by lines of trees. "It's just a back road, running between the county roads. It's all fields out here."

The Mercedes pulled ahead a few car lengths, but the truck caught up with it, traveling at a high speed for both weather and road conditions. The car took the next corner too fast and lost traction, skipping along the slick road, putting the truck nearly beside it. Renji pulled the truck next to it at the straighter length of road, looking over as Rybak's face appeared at the truck's front fender.

"Hang on," he said, twisting the wheel, sending the truck into the car's door.

The impact sent Leah and Ishida reeling on the seat, driving the car to the side of the road, but not off. The car pulled ahead and then made a quick turn onto what seemed to be another secondary road. It was not.

The Mercedes got fifty feet into the newly-turned field before plowing to a halt in the thick mud. Renji had both feet on the brake pedal of the truck, skidding to a stop just before the field began. In the lights of the truck they saw the car's tires spin, spraying mud in several directions as it sunk.

The passenger door flung open and Orihime darted from the car, her hands bound before her as she made her escape, sliding to her knees several times. She disappeared in the dark and heavy rain.

"I'm getting her!" Ishida shoved the door open, the hinges making a strange sound at the new crease in the fender. He started across the field, his steps slowed by the deep mud.

"Stay here!" Renji yelled to Leah, throwing open the door and starting across the field. In the headlights of the truck he saw the man get out of the car, and start around it, the mud pulling at his feet. He stopped and looked to Renji.

The ring was just off the finger of his hand when Renji felt the bullet tear through his arm, ripping part of a tattoo into shreds. In that moment, he got Rybak's bearings in the pouring rain.

In a fleeting second he was at the man, before Rybak could shoot again, tackling him in a charge that sent them into the car, hitting him hard enough across the jaw to knock the glass eye from its socket. He closed his fingers around Rybak's throat, the other hand ripping the gun out of his hand, only to feel the edge of a crowbar swung across his ribs.

Renji gasped, the air leaving his lungs as Rybak recoiled, and sent another blow to his lowest ribs again. His hand tightened on Rybak's neck, feeling the softer flesh give beneath his hand. He heaved him to the ground and dropped onto him, pushing him face down into the mud that oozed around his mouth and nose. Rybak scrambled in the mud, nearly dislodging Renji's slick hold in the rain and mud.

Renji held him down, pushing until the man's head was up to his ears in mud. The pain burned up his arm and side as he heard the plop-plops of breath escaping Rybak. He gritted his teeth as the man's efforts ceased, trying to catch his own breath in the precipitation saturated air. After a long moment, the man was silent, the only sound now the rain falling on the thick mud and the low hum of the car's engine still running. Even Ishida's calling had stopped.

Renji sat back on the dead man, trying to slow his breathing, which only made his ribs scream in pain. He watched the man for a moment, seeing no movement, the bubbles of mud at his face stopping. He looked up to where the car's headlights stretched long beams across the muddy field, seeing little in the rain and dark, only mud.

It was the same from the truck's headlights, which were angled slightly askew from the car, until he recognized Leah's silhouette to one side. He wiped his face with his arm, and looked to where he'd last seen Ishida dash.


	24. Coming Clean

Orihime slid to her knees for the fourth time as she struggled to run through the thick mud that sucked at each step in the night's pouring rain. The watery ground squished between the toes of her bare feet, catching on old weeds from last year's crop plantings. She struggled to her feet, half-sobbing in the downpour, looking behind her at the slight swell of field that blocked her view of the two vehicles. She pulled her hands away from each other, trying to rip the gray furnace tape that Rybak had wound around them when he'd suddenly appeared in the hallway outside her bedroom at the house.

Footsteps behind her made her turn, crouching low in the wet night, her breath halting. She couldn't discern any shapes amid the rain and dark, and as she paused, her feet sunk deeper into the mire.

"Orihime!" Ishida's voice called through the noise of heavy rain. "Orihime!"

She tried to catch her breath. "Uryû!"

"Keep talking!"

"I, I don't know where you are," she called, turning to look in another direction when she thought she heard footsteps.

"Orihime!" His voice was closer this time.

"Where are you?" She turned again, and this time put her bound hands out before her for balance as she slid. He grabbed her wrists before she could fall, pulling her upright in the muck.

"Are you all right, Orihime?"

She nodded briskly, nearly slipping at the motion. He was as soaked as she, both with their clothes hanging heavy on them. His arms came around her, loosely, enough to keep her on her bare feet. She could barely see his face in the dark despite his proximity. He pushed her hair back from her face, the rain pulling it back over her eyes as soon as he did.

"Did he hurt you?"

"No." She squirmed as a root dug into her foot.

He felt along her arms to her wrists, his fingers trying to find the ends of the tightly wrapped tape in the dark, but the wet binding had stretched a little and resisted his attempts at removal. Through the noise of rain they could faintly hear Renji and Leah calling over the slope of gradient in the field.

"Let's get back to the truck and take this off there, Orihime," he said gently as she leaned to his shoulder. He tightened his arm on her shoulder, wishing he could see her better. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She nodded. "I was just scared." She took a deep breath. "Do you think he's dead? I heard a gunshot, I think."

He looked in the direction he thought the truck to be. "I'm sure Renji took care of him." He looked down to the mud where her ankles seemed to disappear into the ground, frowning. "Where are your shoes?"

"Oh, I didn't have any on when that man showed up."

"Hmm." Ishida hoped he was able to succeed at what he was about to suggest. "I'll carry you back."

"No!" She took half a step back before nearly falling. He grabbed her hand and righted her wobble. "Oh, I'm too heavy, Uryû. I can walk."

"Nonsense. Come on. Piggyback?" He pushed his glasses up the slick bridge of his nose, missing her blush in the dark.

She giggled. "No."

"Well, you can't walk without any shoes. Your feet will get all cut up with stubs of ..." He looked around at the mud, unsure what kind of field it had been the year before. "Whatever this was." Another thought occurred to him, and for once he was thankful he had followed American styles in an attempt to blend in instead of his own fashion sense. He kneeled and untied his sneakers. "Here. Wear these."

"Oh, no, I can't ..."

But he had already slipped off his shoes and was pulling one of her ankles out of the mud.

She put one hand on his shoulder to keep her balance, clutching his soaked shirt, as he eased her foot into the shoe, the rain washing most of the mud off.

"It sure got dark quickly," he said as her fingers pressed into his shoulder.

"The sky was so gray today." When she spoke again, he could hear the smile in her voice. "I feel like Cinderella."

He nodded, working her other foot into the second shoe. "I guess you could say that." He tightened the laces and stood, grinning at her, glad she couldn't see the color flushing over his face. "Ready?"

She nodded as he turned her in the direction of the truck over the swell of field, smiling a little as his arm settled at her waist.

It took a few minutes to slosh and slide up the slight grade and over it before headlights from the two vehicles came into sight a few acres away through the heavy rain. Another moment later Renji and Leah's voices could be heard louder shouting over the heavy rainfall.

"Here!" Ishida had called to them, unable to see either of them. Ten minutes of labored walking later they had met and made their way back to the truck, each trying to get more than a sketchy look at everyone else in the rain that made the truck headlight's nearly ineffective.

"Are you all right, Orihime?" Renji immediately pulled her in front of the truck, making her turn, pushing her hair from her face almost roughly as he inspected her from head to toe.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she kept telling him in an effort to get him to ease up.

"You don't have to manhandle her," Ishida said, frowning as Orihime braced to keep her feet.

Renji threw him a glare. "I want to know she's all right!"

"I am," she said for the tenth time.

Leah took Orihime's hands and held them before the truck's headlight, fingers picking at the tape as the rain added another layer of wet to all of them. "Are you sure, Inoue?"

"Yes, yes." Orihime looked to the brunette girl's feet. "Where are your shoes?"

"Out in the field somewhere, broken. They were just flimsy sandals. The mud sucked them right off." She sighed. "We're going to have to cut this off."

"Let's go," Renji said, coughing a little, and then swearing, one hand on his left ribs. He went to the passenger side and opened the door, the new dent in the front quarter panel making the door difficult to open. "Get in," he told Orihime and Leah, and then turned to Ishida. "I'm leaving the car he drove running. Maybe it'll look like an accident."

Ishida had his doubts about that, but nodded. They both looked to the truck door hinges as a resistant squeak came from them as Renji shut the door. He looked to the tire near it, able only to see little. He ran a hand along the dented fender to the wheel well, feeling the indentations from slamming the heavy car. The opening angled in to the tire, rubbing on the treads.

He grabbed the opening above the tire and pulled, gritting his teeth at the throbbing pain in his upper arm. He made another pull at the metal, succeeding in freeing it from the tire.

"That should do it," Ishida said, wiping his glasses with two fingers until they were hopelessly smeared with dirty water.

Renji glanced to the truck windshield where the wipers were leaving brief glimpses of the wet girls inside. "Is she all right, Uryû?"

He nodded. "I think so. Just scared now."

Renji nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

They got into the truck, a snug, soggy fit, their breathing fogging up the cab by the time Renji had spun enough tires to pull them back out of the slick grassy easement by the field, dodging the trees to either side as the vehicle slid sloppily in reverse.

He put the truck into forward and they headed down the muddy, hole-pocked dirt road. He wanted to ask Orihime a dozen questions, but he was finding it a little hard to concentrate between the burning pain at his arm and the swelling at his ribs that made breathing a chore. He was about to speak when Leah did.

"We could go to my house," she said to Orihime as she felt around above the rear window for the overhead light. It switched on and she pulled the other girl's hands closer. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"Oh, yes." She bit her lip as Leah tried to pull the wet tape off her wrists, the lamp behind them shedding more light on the back of their wet heads than anything else. She tried to steady her trembling hands, more from the damp and residual fears than chill.

"You're shaking. You're cold."

"No, just a little..." Orihime tried to giggle as Leah studied her intently. "Nervous, I guess."

Ishida's hand poked Leah in the shoulder as his arm came across Orihime's shoulders, pulling her closer. "I hope you don't get sick in this wet, Orihime."

Leah glanced at the dark-haired boy. His glasses kept sliding down his nose, and the lenses were cloudy with muddy water. She couldn't quite see his eyes behind them, but she figured they were on Orihime. She switched off the light and rubbed the girl's wrists. "We'll get the tape off later."

Renji was oblivious to Ishida's newfound boldness, concentrating on the blurry windshield before them. The rain was growing in force, and the road was visible only a few feet in front of the truck, with patches of fog hanging across the road in low-lying sections. "How do we get back to town, Leah?"

"Do you think that's wise?" Ishida asked him in Japanese, his fingers closing possessively around Orihime's arm as she slowly settled back on the seat. "There may be more."

"You said fourteen," Renji answered. He could feel Leah looking to him in the dark. _Probably wondering at the change in language,_ he thought. He figured it was safer to let her be confused over that than the truth.

"Some of the others might not be part of this," Ishida said. "The ones from the other schools."

Renji nodded, trying to breathe shallowly as he took a turn in the road, the movement making the pain at his shoulder skyrocket. "You're right." He switched to English. "Where do you live, Leah?"

"Take this road until it comes to a stop, and then make a left turn." She sat back in the seat, her shoulder bumping his arm. A grunt escaped him at the contact, and he tried not to think of the implications of a bullet wound on a human body.

Leah looked to Orihime sitting close to Ishida, the lights from the dash illuminating little in the truck cab. He was speaking lowly to her in Japanese, something that made the girl nod, a small smile crossing her face. Leah's attention went back to the road, and a few moments later the truck halted at a stop sign.

Renji looked to each way, seeing no other cars. "Left here?"

Leah nodded, and then said: "Yes."

It took ten minutes to get back near town by way of the side roads that ran between farm fields and large blocks of wooded area, and another three to find Leah's house that, to Renji, seemed to be in the middle of nothing. At least, in the rain and dark.

"Here," she said, pointing at a break in the trees across from a single mailbox.

He turned the truck, the headlights -- the right one now pointing slightly askew from ramming the Mercedes -- shining over an older farmhouse and even older barn as the vehicle followed the angled drive to the porch that ran along the front. The house was dark.

"Are you sure this is all right?" Renji asked, looking at the house.

"My Mom's working the night shift, and Brad won't be home until tomorrow." Leah lowered her voice, trying to see him better in the thick dark. "You should go to the hospital, Renji. Mom's working the ER. She could get you right in. I know you got hit at least twice."

"Let's get Orihime taken care of."

"I'm okay, Renji," Orihime said, nearly knocking Leah in the head as she leaned closer. "Are you hurt? Oh, I don't have..." Her voice faltered. "Well..."

There was a moment of unsaid issues.

"Let's get Orihime untied," Ishida finally said.

* * *

By now it was raining even harder, which only added to the mudslide that had become the four of them. Leah opened back door of the house that led directly into the laundry room and switched on the light. It was a small room that had originally been an enclosed porch, but most of the windows were now covered with shelving. The back door that led into the main house opened to the kitchen. Leah opened this too and switched on the inside light, leaving the door open.

They each looked at each other with varying amounts of amusement and worry. Orihime was loaded with mud from her knees down and her forearms, smeared across her face, as was Ishida where he had held her, as well as his own pant legs. Leah was mostly spattered from the mud Renji had kicked up chasing down the field to Rybak and from where she'd slid to her knees and elbows a few times. Renji was mostly covered with mud everywhere, but his was mixed with blood, too.

Leah looked around for a moment, and then found an old pair of scissors on a shelf with some miscellaneous house tools in a berry basket. She saw Ishida look to her, and she gave him the scissors.

He immediately cut Orihime free, pulling the soggy and stretched tape carefully away from her wrists.

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her wrists. She frowned a little as his finger worked on the firmly adhered tape on her skin.

Leah opened the washing machine and looked in. She twisted the control dial and the machine started to fill with water. She looked into the dryer next to it, and pulled out a bundle of dry towels. "You can wear some of my brother's clothes," she said, nodding at Renji and Ishida. She handed towels to each of them, her eyes pausing on Renji's shoulder. She looked to her own left arm and saw the diluted bloodstains on her yellow shirt sleeve. "Did you get shot, Renji?"

He was going to say no, but it hurt too much. She pulled his arm closer, eyes widening at the jagged skin where the bullet had torn through the flesh, missing bone, but leaving a gash in the flesh.

"Oh, my gosh, Renji," she murmured, taking one of the towels and carefully wrapping it around the timidly bleeding arm. "You've got to see a doctor for this."

He was already shaking his head, making drips of water spatter from his hair. "Can't you just use some floss?"

Ishida looked to him, frowning.

She pushed harder on the towel to stop the bleeding. "This isn't something for floss."

Renji wanted to say they'd head home, but he wasn't ready to take Orihime back to _that_ house yet. "Can they stay here while I check out our house?"

"You can't go anywhere," Orihime said, wiping the back of her hand across her face, succeeding only in smearing it. She looked at her hand, and then to Ishida who was grinning at her.

Leah shook her head. "She's right. This is not a dog bite."

Renji shook his head. "I'm not going to a doctor."

Leah's voice lowered as she frowned at him. "Why are you so stubborn? What are your parents going to say?"

Renji and Orihime exchanged a brief look, and then he took his arm out of Leah's hands and held the towel tighter around the wound. "They're out of town for a few days."

Leah didn't look like she was going to believe him, but shook her head and went to the washing machine. She poured a full cup of detergent in the machine, and then added another half cup.

"Maybe you should get cleaned up first, Orihime," Ishida said. "We can work on this after that." She nodded. He looked to Renji, his glasses a haze of drying mud. He took them off, leaving strange cleaner spots on his face. "You lost the ring, Abarai," he said in Japanese.

Renji looked to his hand, then the other. _Shit, it's gone._ He thought back on the scuffle in the field. He saw Leah look to Ishida questioningly, but then turn back to the machine.

Orihime looked to him. "Do you know where it is?"

Leah looked to her at the question.

He nodded. "I think so."

Orihime was pulling off the mud-caked shoes Ishida had let her use.

Leah recognized his shoes. "Inoue, I've got clothes for you. Come on." She looked to Renji and Ishida, and then sorted through the dry towels in the drier. She handed each of them another.

"Thanks," Ishida said. "I'm sorry this is such a mess."

"No problem." She handed Renji another towel. "What did you lose?"

"Uh, a ring. Family ring."

Orihime sent Ishida a concerned look.

Leah was looking at Renji's hands. "Oh. We can look tomorrow."

"How long do you think it'll be until someone finds him?"

She shrugged, making the drying mud fall from her shirt. "Tomorrow, maybe a few days. It's going to be too wet to work the fields, but someone might notice the car."

He nodded as she handed another towel to Orihime. She glanced at the washing machine, and shut off the knob as an afterthought to stop it from filling.

"I'm sorry, Leah. We're such a mess." Orihime wiped her face with the towel.

Leah picked a clump of dirt out of the Japanese girl's hair, smiling. "I'm glad you're safe. Come on."

They left Renji and Ishida in the laundry room with the towels and went through the kitchen that blended into the spacious living room and up the creaking staircase to the second floor. Leah switched on overhead lights as they went, each giggling at the amount of mud on the other, and down the hall that separated the three bedrooms on one side from the two bedrooms and bathroom on the other.

Orihime looked at each of the rooms as they passed them on their way to Leah's bedroom at the end of the hall on the left. "Do you have a large family?"

"Oh, no. Mom had dreams of doing this bed-and-breakfast thing when she and Dad bought the house when we kids were young, but then, well, Dad left, and other stuff happened, and it's just us. Too much room, actually." She clicked on the overhead light to her bedroom. "Now it's just a lot of storage and stuff."

Orihime looked into the room of faded lavender walls and shelves of souvenir spoons on one side. The bed was made, the purple and brown braided rug well-worn, the hardwood floor scuffed. "You have a lot of fancy spoons." She angled her head to see the three shelves of carefully arranged spoons in plastic holders. "You collect them?"

Leah shrugged, then stooped to pick up the clump of mud that fell from her shirt at the movement. "Sort of. Dad used to get me one whenever he went away on business." She chuckled. "I haven't gotten any recently. Anyway," she said, sorting through the closet for a moment, "you're, well, more curvy than me, so I think these will fit."

Orihime took the teal tired skirt and pink knit shirt Leah handed her. "Oh, thank you. I'm sorry we're such a bother."

"Nonsense. Stop saying that." Leah frowned at her. "Renji needs to go to the emergency room, Inoue. Can't you convince him?"

"He won't go. I know he won't."

For a few moments they both stared at each other, and Orihime hoped Leah wouldn't press the topic.

"He'll be all right. He's strong. You can use floss, right? Like last time."

Leah shook her head. "This is beyond floss, Inoue. He got shot."

"Oh."

Leah smiled quickly. "We'll figure something out. Don't worry, Inoue. If he doesn't want to go, he doesn't want to go." She took her arm. "I'll show you the bathroom and we'll get the rest of the tape off."

* * *

By the time Leah collected clothes from her brother's bedroom and got back to the laundry room, Orihime was in the shower and sloughing off mud and weeds. She went back downstairs to the kitchen and handed the clothes in through the few inches of open doorway to the room to Renji, and then headed upstairs to get her own change of clothes.

Within twenty minutes they were all back in the kitchen, clean, but damp, Orihime the cleanest after her shower, and most of their clothes in the washing machine. The clock shaped like an owl read eight-thirty-seven, but the dark moonless skies and heavy rain made it seem much later. The room was centered around an island with counters that formed an L-shape, with four stools on either side of it, with one side of the angled counter clustered with a fruit bowl, knife block, and assorted canisters.

Brad's t-shirt and jeans were a little baggy on Ishida's more slender form, but he took an uncharacteristic nonchalance over fit. His glasses were clean, and he looked with concern to Orihime as she stood at the counter, her fingers still toying with the remaining adhesive residue on the back of her wrists.

In contrast, Brad's clothes were on the more-fitted side on Renji, who stood near the sink, minus the bandana or ponytail now, holding the bloodied towel to his arm beneath the sleeve of the borrowed t-shirt.

"Sit down," Leah said as Ishida and Orihime stood at the counter, both looking to the girl's hands. She glanced to Renji, then his arm. "Are you sure about going --"

"I'm sure. You can just sew it up, right?" There was no way he was going to a doctor in America.

"We've got something better than floss." Leah looked to Orihime as she and Ishida settled in two of the stools at the counter. He reached for one of Orihime's wrists.

"Sorry about the mess in the other room," Renji said, pressing harder on his arm with the towel.

"Don't worry about it." Leah filled a kettle with water from the sink faucet and set it on a stove burner, turning on the flame. She looked from his shoulder to Orihime. "Tea or hot chocolate?"

"Oh, chocolate would be nice," Orihime said. She rubbed a finger over the sticky tape residue on her wrist.

Leah frowned at Orihime's reddened skin as she found the instant hot chocolate mix in a cupboard. "I'll find some first aid ointment for that."

"Oh, it's okay." Orihime held her breath as Ishida removed a few hairs from her skin along with the tape adhesive.

Renji eyes were on Orihime, watching Ishida gently pull pieces of adhesive from her hands. He looked to Leah as she stepped closer to him.

"Let's see what we can do with that," she said, nodding to his arm.

He followed her out of the kitchen and to the bathroom beyond the living room.

She switched on the overhead light and the one above the sink vanity. "Why don't you want to go to the doctor, Renji? Is it a matter of insurance?"

He sighed, and then caught himself as the pressure made his ribs ache. "No. I just don't want to go." He vaguely remembered something about insurance, when he was reading up on the dossier Hitsugaya had given him for the assignment, but it had pertained to Orihime. He looked around at the cornflower blue walls and white trim. "Did she tell you what happened?"

"No." She took the towel from his arm, the blue material dark from where he'd held it to the injury. She pushed up the t-shirt sleeve higher, anchoring it at his shoulder. The bullet had grazed the skin, but deeply, crossing two black lines of tattoo that peaked below his shoulder, passing through the flesh. She frowned, dabbing at the area around it with the towel, glad it was mostly clean from rain already. "Well, at least the bullet isn't still in." She opened the mirrored medicine cabinet and brought out several items. She ripped open an alcohol pad, looking to him, and then back at the wound that had nearly quit bleeding. "Do you want to sit or lie down?"

"No."

She raised an eyebrow.

He wasn't about to tell her he'd been through worse. "Will that sting?"

She nodded, glancing at the hand he held to his left ribs. "You should lean against the wall; brace your back. It'll be easier to breathe."

He stood to the side of the sink, watching the top of her dark, wet hair that hung loose as she wiped the area around the wound with the pad. A slight sting edged at the sides of the jagged tear amid the tattoo. "Did she say anything?"

"No. She was still scared, but I think she feels a little better after the shower." She held up a small atomizer. "This is antiseptic. It'll sting just a little." She sprayed the open wound, catching the drips with a gauze pad that ran pink down his arm. "Who is she?"

He frowned. "Ori -- Inoue?"

She nodded, wiping off the excess antiseptic. "Is she someone important?"

"Well, yeah, to a lot of people."

"That's why those guys were after her?"

"It's a long story."

She sighed. She washed the area with another alcohol pad and held a double layer of gauze firmly over the wound, watching him. "You keep saying that."

He looked to each of her eyes, and decided it was time for a little more truth. "I've been assigned to protect her. Someone abducted her a while ago," he half-explained, "and they want her back. That's why we're in America and not Japan. This seemed like the safest place for her."

She blinked a few times. "So, your parents, they're hiding her, too?"

He nodded. "Kind of. They weren't my parents, Leah. They were just checking up on us because there were some communication issues."

"What about Gwen and Charlie?"

"Gwen found the house we're living in. Charlie was checking up on us, too." He watched her put his hand over the gauze and take the top off a small tube. "You can't tell anyone anything about this."

She half chuckled. "Who would believe me?"

"I'm serious."

"I won't breathe a word, Renji." She moved his hand and put the gauze on the sink vanity, examining the three inch wound that was over an inch wide. She used two fingers to pull the sides of skin together, squeezing the tube's tip of fluid carefully along the edges. "So, it's like the FBI or something?"

The name of the agency was only slightly familiar to Renji. "Not exactly. A little more..." _What_, he thought, _dead?_ "It's based out of Japan, and less formal."

She studied him for a long moment. "She'll be okay?"

"Yeah. She'll be okay."

"What about Uryû?"

"Uh, he's not part of...He just came over on his own. He's a schoolmate."

"He's certainly dedicated to her."

He nodded. "She's got friends."

She held the skin tightly so it wouldn't slip, waiting for the liquid sutures to cure. When they had, she closed another section, and then another until just the middle area was open. "I can't do that last part; it'll pull the skin too much. It'll heal-in on its own, but it's going to heal maligned, Renji."

He shook his head. She seemed more concerned about it than he was, and he figured it would be pointless to explain that whatever happened to his human body wouldn't matter once he returned to shinigami form permanently. "It's fine. What is that? Glue?"

"Kind of." She held a triple layer of gauze padding over the still-open area and used a roll of gauze bandage to wind over it. She wound an ace bandage over the gauze and attached the Velcro edge. "How are you feeling?"

He nodded. "All right."

"Chills? Fever? Nausea? Any of that?"

"No."

"Good." She looked to his hand at his ribs. "You got hit twice?"

"Yeah."

She lifted the edge of the black t-shirt, looking quickly to him, and then back down as she moved the shirt higher to expose his lowest two ribs. "You have a lot of tattoos, Renji."

He held his breath as her fingers moved over the swelling at his lowermost rib and then to next one up that had taken a harder blow. The impact of the second swing of the crowbar had resulted in the skin swelling quicker, making the skin split and open. Already a blue and purple color was spreading over the skin around the black jags pf tattoos. "You can glue it shut?"

She shook her head, feeling the heat still around the area. "You need x-rays. They're probably fractured and you could have internal bruising and bleeding." She looked to him, seeing him shake his head. "Okay. No x-rays. But it's going to hurt for a long time, Renji. Weeks." She moved the shirt edge to see no more bruising or injuries. Her eyes paused on the tattoos, and then went to his forehead where the marks were visible in absence of the muddied bandana. "You were assigned to Inoue?"

He nodded. "It's complicated."

"But you already knew her?"

He nodded again. The kettle whistled from the kitchen, and Orihime called, "_I've got it!"_

Leah looked to the doorway, and then back at him. Her attention rested on his side again, shaking her head. "I'll close it with a bandage, and we'll put ice on it. Once the swelling goes down we'll see if it needs closing, but I think taping will be enough." She gently pushed on the rib above the split in his skin, watching him hold his breath. "I can drive. I can take you to the ER if you don't want to drive."

"I'm not going."

"Okay." She carefully wiped an antiseptic pad over the area that had dried of blood, scowling at the purple marking among the black. She dropped the hem of his shirt and unwrapped a bandage and fit it over the split skin, smoothing it over the tender area.

"Did your brother ever break ribs?" he asked, watching her smile a little, nodding.

"He fell out of the loft of the barn onto a snowmobile. Mom took him in to ER and he had two fractured ribs." She pressed the edges of the bandage firmly to adhere to his skin. "All they did was X-rays and medicate him." She looked to the cabinet and nodded. "I'll get you something for the pain from upstairs. Mom's got mega-dose stuff that won't impair your senses. Just take the edge off the pain."

"Thanks." He considered how best to phrase what he wanted to ask her. He didn't think she'd say no. "I want to leave Orihime here while I check out the house. I won't be gone --"

"You can't go anywhere. You've got to rest."

He shook his head, but secretly agreed with her. "I won't be long. Uryû will be with her. And -- Ow!" He frowned as her fingers pressed slightly below his last rib. "What the hell are you doing, Leah?"

She frowned back at him, moving her fingers. "That's your vitals, Renji. You need to rest, not go traipsing around in the dark and rain. Driving is one of the worst movements for ribs, not to mention the hole in your arm. How's your breathing?"

He shook his head. "Okay."

"I can hear you rattling."

He nodded. "Maybe I'll go later."

"Good." She opened the vanity drawer to find a black hair-tie. She handed it to him, smiling as she looked at his nearly dry hair. "Let's eat."

* * *

Over a late supper of chicken salad sandwiches and pasta salad -- and two laundry loads of muddy clothes later -- the story of Orihime's abduction came out. After Renji had gone out to look at the garage and water issues that afternoon, she had went upstairs to exchange her fish hairclips for her hairpins. She hadn't even finished brushing out her hair, she told them, when Rybak was there.

"Just right behind me," she said, looking down at her reddened wrists that smelled faintly of the medicated cream she had applied. She chased the last of the noodles around the bowl with her spoon. "He held that gun in my face and said not to make a sound, and I didn't." She managed a meek smile. "Thanks for finding me, Renji."

He nodded, grunting a little at the movement. "I'm sorry he got that close, Orihime." He'd taken to standing at the counter the last fifteen minutes when leaning over from the stool had placed too much strain on his side. He'd passed on the Vicodin Leah had suggested, instead choosing the high-dose ibuprofen she offered. "He should be the last."

They rain outside was coming down in torrents and now accompanied by a howling wind that shook the window panes and screen door, making the lights dim a few times, but remain on. The early darkness falling made the evening seem much later, but even with the disorientation of her trial and rescue, Orihime had found her appetite.

"If that's what the fourteen on the paper means," Ishida added to Renji as Leah and Orihime put the dishes in the sink and spoke quietly at the other counter. "_If_ the others are all part of Aizen's mercenaries. If they weren't, Renji, there'll be more."

The shinigami nodded, looking to Orihime at the sink, watching her smile, her hair nearly dry now, Leah's clothes a little on the snug side on her. "They won't find her here."

"Rybak found her in town. It can happen again." Ishida drank down the last of his hot chocolate that had cooled. He glanced to Orihime's feet as she stood beside Leah. "She didn't have any shoes on."

Renji's jaw tightened as he thought back over the day. "She's all right now, Ishida. No one's getting near her again." He put a hand to his ribs, and then saw Leah glance his way at the movement. He dropped his hand and looked to the living room as a gust of wind rattled the windows there. "I'll go tomorrow to find the ring."

"What if you can't find it?" Ishida looked to the bare finger on Renji's left hand. "You'll be stuck as human?"

"Hell, I hope not."

"We'll find it tomorrow."

Renji shook his head. "I'll find it. You stay with her." They both looked to Orihime, who was absently rubbing her wrist as she nodded at Leah.

Ishida nodded. "I'll stay with her."

They congregated in the living room ten minutes later, and played Yahtzee -- after a cursory course on the game's objective and rules -- for an hour. Renji gave up after twenty minutes, as leaning over the coffee table between the sofa and love seat wasn't worth the shooting pain in his arm or the dull ache that had consumed his left side. He resorted to watching, grinning to himself that Orihime had indeed gotten herself on a love seat, even if it wasn't the one in their house, and with _someone_. _Probably not the someone she would have chosen,_ he thought, watching Ishida's knee inch towards hers every time he leaned forward to roll the cup of dice onto the table.

But maybe it was. It was beginning to seem so.

Leah returned from the kitchen and sat beside him -- carefully, so as not to jar the sofa -- and handed him a fresh ice pack.

"Thanks."

She nodded. "The emergency room is open all night."

He spared her a resigned look, and she turned back to the game.

"Let me know if you change your mind," she said, watching Orihime pour out the dice onto the table.

"I will." He glanced to where the stereo was set to the local station, the pop songs interspersed with weather reports every few tunes, updates on power outages in the next county and flood advisories. _Maybe they'd get enough rain to flood the field where Rybak is lying face down in the mud,_ he thought. Maybe the body wouldn't be found until next week. Or later.

The game lasted another hour, and through a fog warning over the radio station, a few moments of flickering lights throughout the house that threatened a brown-out, and two bags of potato chips. The rain hadn't eased up any, but the wind had died down, lending a lulling sound to the weather outside that invited sleep.

* * *

None were aware of the sole figure that sat watching the lone light blink out on the monitor inthe darkened room of Las Noches. The man sat back in the chair, content that all fourteen lights were extinguished after non-movement for twenty-four hours or lack of body heat. He'd like to think he had a part in it. He hadn't been sure the slip of paper and the human girl's hairpins would be enough of an indication, but the Quincy boy was a smart one.

He scowled at the monitor. The flaw was that the small lights had all congregated in one general location -- bunched too closely -- a sure indication of the whereabouts of Aizen's target, even if none of the mercenaries had found her.

"Is that the last one?" Aizen's voice startled Gin as he stood behind the white-haired man.

"Yup." Gin frowned at the interruption. So caught up in his own cleverness he hadn't even heard the self-imposed leader of Las Noches.

"I should never have used humans."

"Looks like there won't be any stick to pick up."

Aizen nodded. "Weaklings."

"Fourteen failures." Gin turned in his chair and leaned back, looking to Aizen as he watched the monitor. "You won't have to pay up."

"No. There were fifteen. One had a faulty band that never showed up on the monitors. You look surprised."

"I am. I thought there were fourteen."

"Hmm. I guess I neglected to mention the one with the malfunctioning band. That one may be dead, too. There should have been fifteen lights." Aizen nodded to the screen. "We know her location. If this one is still alive, she'll be found shortly."

Gin nodded as Aizen left the room. "I see." He frowned at the blank screen. "You're on your own, Quincy-boy."


	25. Guest Room

Renji didn't remember falling asleep that night, but when he awoke the next morning it took a few moments to recall where he was. For a startling moment he wondered why he was staring at Orihime and Ishida across from the coffee table, still seated on the love seat. He was exclusively aware of the acute throbbing in his side, coupled by an encompassing pain at his upper arm.

Being human was intolerable, and it was this moment that made him realize how fragile humans were, and how much he missed being in true form. The rain outside had stopped and the sun was attempting an early, oblique appearance through the south windows that overlooked the back yard in the small dining room next to the kitchen. He glanced at Leah to his right, curled at the opposite side of the sofa, half draped over the plaid arm of the couch. Her face was hidden beneath her hair, which had dried wavier than he'd usually seen it. He watched her sleep for a moment, thoughts that had passed through his mind on other occasions making another pass. He glanced at her feet, seeing minor abrasions on the inside of one ankle from the half-buried roots in the field of mud.

"_... road closed due to flooding,"_ the radio station was saying, the broadcaster's monotone a steady drone. "_All Brooklyn Schools' soccer practices are canceled for the day. All Little League baseball practices are canceled county-wide..." _The cancellations, floodings, and power-outages continued.

Ishida stirred but didn't wake, and Renji looked there to see Orihime move closer to him, still sleeping, pinning him into the corner of love seat, her head resting determinedly on his shoulder, her fingers locked in his on his thigh.

Renji chuckled, then muttered a curse under his breath as the constriction in his chest magnified. He wiped his hair from his face, grunting at the movement, undecided which hurt more, his side or his shoulder.

Which was why he hadn't used the hair-tie Leah had given him. Raising his hands over his head for a mere hair-tie wasn't worth the agony the movement sent through his injuries. Now he changed his mind, and took a moment to stand and find the tie in his -- Brad's -- jean pocket.

He decided the room was homey, most of the furniture out-dated, lived-in, coordinating but not matching. The floors were all hardwood, with braided and rag runners and rugs, and tall potted plants at several spots in the morning sun that shed across the early morning floor. Beyond the living room, beside the kitchen-to-laundry room door, was a sliding glass door that overlooked a small deck. Out it Renji could see sparse trees lining what looked to be another farm field to the south. He stepped past Leah's sleeping form, pausing a moment, hesitating before picking a lock of brunette hair from her shoulder. It was as soft as he'd imagined, longer than he thought it would be when not kept in a ponytail. Her fingers curled over the sofa edge, and he moved away before she woke, and went to the sliding glass door in the kitchen.

Out it he could see more of the cropland past the perimeter trees that edged the two acres the house sat upon. Standing water covered a dip in the back yard near the west trees, tufts of grass protruding from a few spots. He knew it meant their garage in town was going to be a serious mess when they got back. He sighed, putting a hand to his side at the movement. Trenching out the garage to drain the burial spot might be less taxing than filling in the spot, he decided. He frowned. Maybe he could put Ishida to work. Let him take a hand at the shoveling. He turned to look at the Quincy, and saw Leah coming into the kitchen.

"Good morning," she said.

"'Morning." He watched her look out the window beside him.

"Lot of water," she said, her eyes moving over the new pond forming in the yard. "It'll take a week to dry up."

He nodded, twisting the hair-tie in his fingers. "I'm going to look at the field."

Her eyes went to his side. "How are you feeling?"

He shook his head, but said: "All right."

"You are not. Geez, Renji, people go to a doctor when they get shot."

They glanced back to the living room beyond the kitchen as a _clunk_ sounded, and both Orihime and Ishida sat straighter at the loveseat and rubbed their temples at the impact.

Leah giggled. "You know that hurt."

Renji nodded. "Can they stay here while I go to the field?"

"Of course." She looked to his hand. "I'll help you look for it. You have to eat first so you can take something for the pain."

He started to protest, but decided against it.

* * *

Less than an hour later, after a hasty breakfast of lemon poppy seed muffins, they were at the field. It was wetter than the night before, the ground saturated and slick with rain. Renji parked the truck at the edge of the field, seeing the trenches it had left the night before when he'd spun his way out of the mud, filled with water.

Leah got out the driver's side door behind him, doubting the passenger door's functionality. She stood beside him, looking over the field that was half mud, half standing muddy water. She watched as he loosened his watch and let it dangle at his wrist. He glanced at her, then back to the watch. The back of the metal had began to heat up a few minutes ago, but he wasn't about to take it off, even when he knew Ishida was with Orihime.

"Do you remember where you were when you lost it?"

He nodded, but not in affirmation. "Between here and the car. Just follow the tracks, I guess." He shook his head as he saw the lump of a body in the distance near the car, looking at the footprints leading to it that were now pockets of water. "Stay here. I'm sure he's not a pretty sight."

"Oh, well, as long as he's dead..."

They followed the set of tracks that Renji thought were most likely his from the scramble the night before, searching the mud and muck for the ring. He'd tried to explain the importance of the ring to Leah, that it was a family heirloom, a signet, for all intent and purposes, which had led to her wondering why he was wearing it.

He'd decided against trying to explain any further. He was only relieved he'd lost it in human form rather than shinigami form; that would have taken a whole lot of explaining -- to Orihime.

"These are mine," he said, following a track of footsteps, some of which were no more than dirty water. As he recalled, it had been near the truck when he'd lost the ring, before he'd started into the field. He knelt, sticking his fingers into the first footstep indentation. Nothing.

Leah had moved ahead a few steps to the next couple, the mud pulling at her shoes, making her steps slow and uncertain. She squatted and felt around with her fingers in one of the footsteps of muddy water, and then felt along in another.

For a few long moments they searched the pockets of water as the sun rose higher, making the standing water shine like absurd spots in the field of mud.

Renji's fingers closed around a small circular form in one of the holes of muddy water. "I've got it." He stood and wiped the slick clay off the ring. He held it up when Leah looked to him a few yards away.

"Ooh, good. I'm glad you didn't lose it." It took a moment for her to backtrack to him, her shoes sticking with each step she took. "Geez, this stuff is like tar."

He nodded, using his finger to wipe out the mud from the interior of the ring. He watched her for a moment, her arms out to her sides for balance as she pulled her feet up from the sucking muck. "You're going to fall over," he said, grinning.

She shook her head when she had nearly reached him. "Brooklyn is all clay, and it's always a mess in rain."

He nodded, slipping the mostly clean ring on his finger. Leah stopped a few feet away, her face falling.

"Renji?"

"What?" He stepped closer as she stood still. "Are you stuck?" He put one hand to her elbow as she stared unfocused at him.

She flinched, shrieking, pulling away until she almost fell over. "What was that?!"

His hand moved to her wrist as she squirmed, her shoes sticking in the sloppy ground. "Leah, what's the hell's wrong with you?"

She pushed against his chest, then her hands stopped, her face searching, confusion eclipsing her fear. One hand moved over his chest, slowly, then withdrew completely from his black robe.

_His shinigami robe,_ he realized.

He looked to the ring on his right hand. _Shit, no wonder she was bewildered._ He switched the ring to his left hand.

This time she screamed when he reappeared, her eyes wide, and turned to run, but only succeeded in taking two ungainly steps in the muck before he caught her. His hand closed on her wrist, making her face him, catching her other wrist.

"What was _that_?" She pulled, twisting from him futilely. "How did you do that, Renji?"

"Stop squirming, Leah."

She didn't, but she did lower her voice. "What kind of trick was that? You disappeared and now you're, you're... How did you do that?"

His hold changed on her wrists, and she stopped pulling away, still at arm's length, eyes locked on his. "I can explain."

She shook her head, looking to the ring. "How'd you do it?"

"Let's go back to the truck."

* * *

They sat for fifteen minutes in the truck cab while he tried to explain. During the whole time her eyes didn't leave him, her expression volleying between disbelief, fear, and doubt of her own senses. She studied him closely from her corner against the passenger door, ready to bolt if she could get the door open, but fascinated at the same time.

The mud on the top of her shoes was nearly dry by the time he finished explaining. She looked him over carefully, attention resting on his bandaged arm.

"But I know you're human. I saw you bleeding."

"Right now, I'm just as human as you are." He saw her eyes go to the ring.

"What about Inoue? What about Uryû?"

"Human. Completely."

She nodded slowly. "So, all the stuff, at the library and out there ..." she said, looking out at the sunny field where the Mercedes was still parked, the engine now stalled, "it's all ...." Her eyes opened wider when she glanced back to him. "Have you killed a lot of people, Renji?"

He shook his head and turned the key in the ignition. The truck started and he eased it back onto the dirt road. "You can't tell anyone, Leah. No one."

"I won't." She pointed to the road before them. "You can keep going to the next road and make a right, and it'll take you back to the house."

"All right."

They traveled in silence for a few moments, and he could feel her eyes study him. He debated saying more than he had, but deemed it pointless to elaborate on issues that would only bring up more questions.

"Does Inoue know?" she finally asked timidly.

He nodded. "So does Ishida. Uryû." He saw the farmhouse appear between the trees. "This is it?"

"Yes."

He turned the truck into the driveway, watching a gray cat scamper into the barn at their approach. "You're awfully quiet."

"Oh? Oh." She looked from him to the house. "Have you thought any more about going to the emergency room?"

"No."

She nodded. "Well, you can take the rest of the ibuprofen with you. It'll help."

He stopped the truck and switched off the ignition. For a moment she sat staring at the house.

"So, the people that you said were your dad and mom, and, and ..." She shook her head. "They're all like you?"

He nodded.

She frowned more intently. "There was a little boy driving your truck a few weeks ago. He came into the Cake Cottage and asked for directions to your house. Him, too?"

Renji couldn't help but grin at the description of Hitsugaya. "Yeah. Him, too. He's Gwen's captain."

Leah took a moment to consider the new information. She finally nodded. "Okay." She looked to the front door of the house as Ishida slowly opened it and looked through the screen door at them. "Okay then."

Renji and Leah had barely got to the front door where Orihime and Ishida stood and were taking off their muddy shoes when Leah looked to the driveway and groaned. Another car pulled in behind the truck.

"He's early," she murmured, setting her shoes to one side of the porch.

Orihime looked around Ishida in the doorway through the screen door. "Early?"

Renji turned to see the car's driver side door open and a man in his early twenties get out. He was nearly as tall as the shinigami, dressed in jeans and a green Eastern Michigan University t-shirt, and threw a quick glance at the truck's dented side as he made an impatient approach to the porch.

He looked from Renji to Leah when he got to the steps. "What've you got going on?"

"Mom's still at work. Brad, this is --"

Brad was getting a closer look at Renji's attire. "Hey, those are _my_ clothes. Leah, what's --"

"Brad," Leah said pointedly as her brother glared at Renji, "listen. We hit a couple of deer last night. These are my friends." She looked from Renji to Orihime and Ishida still in the house, each with degrees of awkwardness. Her attention returned to her brother as she managed a quick smile. "Did you bring your laundry?"

Brad was scowling at Renji, who was trying not to return the expression. "What? Yes." He looked to the truck and back to Leah. "Deer, huh? Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Get your laundry and I'll introduce you."

Brad shot Renji another look, and then glanced to Ishida, and then Orihime. She gave him a sunny smile, and he grinned at her. "Oh, your exchange student friend." He nodded at his sister. "But you've still got some explaining to do."

"Just get your laundry."

* * *

It took another half an hour for Leah to introduce Brad to Renji, Orihime, and Ishida, and then to explain yet another version of the preceding night's events to him. During that time Leah talked almost nonstop, concocting excuse after excuse, and eventually convincing her brother all was well.

By the time they left, Renji wasn't certain Brad believed everything Leah had told him, but he seemed to believe enough, and the overly-protective older brother suspicions had diminished to a handshake for him and Ishida. It helped that Leah plied her brother with muffins and misplaced enthusiasm at doing his laundry.

"Is it okay with him?" Orihime asked as Leah walked them out to the truck. "He won't be too mad?"

Leah shook her head, looking to her brother still in the doorway at the front porch. "He's always grumpy when he gets home. It's fine." She glanced at Renji and then back to Orihime. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"Okay."

Ishida pulled a few times on the passenger door before it opened. Orihime climbed into the cab.

"Be careful," Leah told her.

Orihime nodded. "I will. Thanks for everything."

Leah turned back to the house as Renji and Ishida got into the truck. Ishida looked to Renji as the shinigami watched Leah meet her brother at the door.

"You told her, didn't you?"

Renji frowned, grunting as he started the truck and turned the steering wheel. "I had to."

* * *

They followed Leah's directions for getting back into Brooklyn, which were surprisingly simple. A few turns, and a couple times of wading the truck through spots with water over the dirt road, and the town emerged over the hill outside of town. In moments they were on Brooklyn-Pierport Street.

Renji and Orihime waited at the truck in the driveway as Ishida collected his few belongings from his temporary residence at the brick house. He took only moments, reappearing from around the back of the brick house with two bags, his pace quickening as he looked nervously to the neighbor's house close by.

Moving the Quincy into the small house Renji and Orihime were using was quick. Renji made Ishida and Orihime stay in the kitchen after they entered by the back door. He checked the living room thoroughly, seeing the front door still ajar as he'd seen it last the day before. He shut and locked it, and then took the katana from where it rested against the wall and investigated the other ground level rooms.

The bathroom, the spare bedroom Ishida was to use, the hall to the second floor. It all looked untouched since he'd left so hastily. There was a puddle of water on the carpet in the bedroom, the ripped window screen moving slightly in the breeze that blew in.

Renji went upstairs and made a search of the second level rooms. Nothing was amiss, nothing different. He picked up the _Hello Kitty_ door pull that still lay in the hall, one hand at his side where his ribs protested the movement. He hung the beaded pull on Orihime's bedroom doorknob and went back downstairs.

"Okay. I'm going to check the basement and garage," he told Orihime and Ishida as they stood at the kitchen counter. He looked from the Quincy to the girl, suppressing most of a grin. "Move him in."

She smiled broadly at Ishida, who was doing his best not to let a flush of diffidence consume him. She glanced to Renji as he left the room for the basement, and then back to Ishida. "He said we'd get you new bed linens from Pierport later. We'll fix it up however you like."

He shook his head, following her into the spare bedroom down the hall, looking the room over slowly. "It's just fine the way it is, Orihime."

She nodded, eyeing the wet floor. "Well, we'll fix the window screen and get a few -- ooh, do you want a plant? We have a plastic plant in the living room, so you wouldn't have to water it, or a basil plant from the kitchen."

"This is fine."

She sighed. "Thank you for finding me last night. I'm glad you didn't get hurt." She looked to the doorway. "I wish Renji would let me heal his wounds. If I had just a day to --"

"You shouldn't chance it, Orihime." Ishida frowned. "Maybe I should go, too. I don't want to get in the way by being near you." His face fell, and he rephrased the statement. "As a Quincy, I don't want to draw attention to your location. Renji is staying human, and I don't want to --"

"Oh, you have to stay, Uryû. Please?" Her smile dimmed as she thought about his suggestion. "As long as you don't use your powers, it should be all right. Right?"

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Well, I think so, but I don't want to endanger you, Orihime."

Her smile brightened. "Then you should stay."

He set his bags down by the futon. "Then I'll stay."

* * *

It took the afternoon for Renji to come to the conclusion that the standing water in the garage would just have to stand there for a few days until he felt like doing something about it. His side and arm hurt too much to make an effort at trenching out the water to drain the garage. They spent a few hours going to Pierport's modest department store, where Orihime picked out a tasteful blue and gray sheet and blanket set for Ishida. She took great care in choosing his pillow, making him consider the soft and extra firm styles before settling on his selection. Renji had waited at the end of the linen aisle for them, hearing their conversation, sounding -- to him -- like a couple of bashful newlyweds as they discussed patterns and thread counts.

Back at the house, as the late afternoon sun headed for the west, Renji used a large-eyed needle and some fishing line to mend the first floor bedroom screen from the outside of the window. He stood half in the flower bed where the window sill was nearly eyelevel, tugging at the cut screen edge as Ishida pulled it taut from inside.

Renji fit the needle through the small holes in the screen and then through the remaining mesh still in the frame, drawing it together slowly. He glanced to his right where an unmarked police car was pulling into Raider's empty house.

"Another one?" Ishida asked, leaning into the window to see what he could of the black car in the neighbor's driveway.

Renji nodded, eyes going back to the needle and screen in his hands. "They've had everyone out the past few days." At first it had been the Brooklyn Police Department at Raider's house, followed by the county sheriff's deputies, and then the Michigan State Police. "Some don't even have uniforms. Just plainclothes."

"Probably detectives," Ishida added, pulling another section of screen tight so Renji could sew it back to the bottom torn part. "Have they asked you any questions?"

Renji shook his head, frowning as a piece of screen gave way and he had to anchor the fishing line by another hole. "I hope they don't."

"You have all the necessary paperwork?"

"Yeah."

"Does she?"

Renji nodded, sewing the screen edges together. "Captain Hitsugaya took care of all of it." He glanced at the Quincy. "How about you? Are you legal here?"

Ishida frowned at him. "I have all the proper papers."

Renji began mending the corner of the screen where the tension of the mesh was enlarging the metal holes. "I've got this, if you want to go see where she is."

"Okay."

Renji chuckled as Ishida disappeared out the bedroom door without hesitation, then stopped when his side began throbbing. _Damn ribs_, he thought. He glanced obliquely at the unmarked police car at Raider's house. A spotlight was angled down by the side view mirror by the driver's door, the door itself devoid of any markings. It looked much like any other black car, except for the barred divider running between the front and back seats.

There'd been up to four police cars of one sort or another over the last few days, shades of blue and brown, and two black Suburbans with canine units. The appearance of the drug-finding dogs had led to Milk Dud's incessant barking for two hours, which had driven both Orihime and Renji to agitated ends.

He watched the officer now at the neighbor house, deciding him to be a Brooklyn cop, judging from his gray-blue uniform. _Like all the rest,_ Renji thought, seeing the man shine a flashlight into the unkempt bushes around the front of the house. He appeared barrel-chested from the bullet-proof vest beneath his uniform, one hand on the holster at his side, walking stiltedly.

Renji tied off the last bit of screen edge, tucking the fishing line back through the screen into the window. From the distance he couldn't actually see the gun in the officer's holster, but he knew it was there. All the officers had had the same posture -- one hand on the weapon at their side -- even when they were talking to each other. He estimated the patch job in the screen, deciding it was adequate. _All it has to do is keep the bugs out_, he thought. He glanced at the officer in the next yard who was making his way back to the other side of the house, out of Renji's sight.

_Good,_ he thought, satisfied the man wasn't going to get nosey and ask questions. It was only a matter of time, he knew, before some detective would have to inquire of the neighbors. Hopefully, they'd be with Orihime at school when their turn came.

* * *

Some of the realities of Ishida's presence in the house caught up with Orihime that night, right after a forty minute bubble bath. She carefully dried off, smiling at the lingering scent of peaches and sunflowers in the bathroom, and dressed in her camisole and short set pajamas. She wiped the foggy mirror and looked at her reflection, frowning.

Not very modest, she decided, adjusting the tank top over herself better. She pulled on the lavender robe, flipping her hair out of the collar, and tied it at her waist. She nodded at her reflection in the mirror.

"Much better," she said with a smile. She combed out her hair, feeling a blush seep over her cheeks, suddenly overly-conscious of her pajamas. Maybe she should find something else to wear before she went downstairs. She thought over the items in her wardrobe for a moment. She hadn't had this problem the first week she'd been in the house, she realized. Well, she'd thought about it a little bit, but not much, and not for long.

_But that had been just Renji,_ she told herself; not Uryû. This was different. This mattered.

She sighed and retied her robe again, tucking the collar in so it crossed her chest with more coverage. She paused to look at the faintly reddened skin at her wrists before attaching the blue beaded bracelet below the bangle on her left arm. Memories of that horrid night in the rain had dimmed when she thought of Ishida's frantic search for her. She was a little surprised at herself.

Had she really overlooked him for so long, even when he'd been right at her side through so much? To come all the way from Japan to check on her... She sighed, pushing her hair from her face as the steam lifted from the mirror, leaving a watery image of her reflection.

Maybe she'd been a little too focused elsewhere for too long. _That was it,_ she thought, sighing. She opened the bathroom door and headed into the hall. She was going to make Ishida the biggest ice cream sundae he'd ever had.

* * *

Sunday morning Renji was out of bed by four and in the kitchen filling out reports for Soul Society. It hadn't been his intention to be up and about that early, but lying down had proved too difficult for sleeping, and the ten minute intervals he spent in shinigami form and doses of ibuprofen Leah had given him weren't providing much relief from his injuries.

He'd worked for three hours on the paperwork before anyone else in the house stirred, and then it was Orihime, startled to see him, and intent on rendering a breakfast of half a bread loaf of French toast.

"Are you sure?" she asked for the third time, hovering over the electric skillet with a spatula, a dish of milk and egg beside an array of ingredients on the counter. "We have plenty of bread, Renji. It'll help you heal faster."

"Rice is enough," he said, turning back to the last two reports he had yet to complete. He eyed the containers on the counter. "He might not have recovered from the sundae you made him last night, Orihime."

She seemed to consider this for a moment before realizing he was joking. "Oh, everyone likes French toast."

Renji looked to the doorway as Ishida appeared there, looking a bit drowsy still, but fully dressed and grinning as he looked to Orihime. She turned to see him, smiling brightly, waving the spatula turner.

"Good morning! Did you sleep well, Uryû?"

He nodded and met her at the counter. "Did you?"

"Oh, yes. I hope you're hungry. Do you like French toast?"

"Uh, I think I've had it once." He looked at the ingredients, watching as she dropped a piece of bread in the dish of egg and milk.

"We have all kinds of toppings. Just you wait. I'll get it all fixed up." She placed the battered bread on the hot skillet and watched it sizzle. "Milk? Orange juice? Apple juice?"

"Uh, you don't have to go through all that trouble, Orihime --"

"It's no trouble. You have to have a big breakfast on Sundays."

Ishida glanced to Renji's half finished bowl of rice on the table. "What about your big breakfast?"

Renji grinned and looked back to his paperwork. "I had a big breakfast last Sunday. It's your turn."

Five minutes later Ishida found himself at the table before a stack of French toast topped with butter, pancake syrup, orange marmalade, strawberry preserves, ground cinnamon, and chopped walnuts, feeling a little intimidated. Orihime sat with him, an expectant look on her face. He returned her smile, and ate every bite on the plate.

* * *

Brooklyn spent the rest of Sunday draining from the week of rain. The sun was out strong, making an attempt at drying up the town, but the water had taken a stronghold, flooding side streets and overwhelming gutters and drains. Renji stood looking at the large puddle of water behind the garage that afternoon. It wasn't nearly as large as the pond that had begun to form in Leah's backyard, he determined, but enough water to make the ground soggy, gurgling as the garage drained into the yard. He didn't even look in the outbuilding; it could wait another day.

Renji looked to where two blue uniformed policemen were heading into Raider's house. He sighed before thinking, and put a hand to his side, pressing against the pain that caught. Leah hadn't been exaggerating about the discomfort of busted ribs, he decided. He watched the officers pause at the back door before going down the stairs to Raider's basement, their radios squawking. At least they hadn't shown up on his doorstep yet. He hoped they wouldn't.

"Hi."

Renji turned quickly to see Leah standing at the corner of the garage. He dropped his hand from his side. "Hi. When did you get here?"

"Oh, just now. Inoue said you were out here." She looked out over the standing water in the back yard. "Well, at least you're not under water."

He shook his head and stepped closer to where she stood, nodding at the tie-dye shirt she wore. "Getting off work or going to?"

"Going to. How are you feeling?"

"All right."

She looked to his bandaged arm exposed beneath the t-shirt sleeve. "Are you still against going to a doctor?"

He nodded.

She shook her head. "Any problems?"

"No." He took her elbow and turned her towards the house, and then saw Brad's car in the driveway behind the truck. "Is he taking you to work?"

"Yes. Part of the road is still underwater." They walked to the house before she spoke again. "All that stuff you said yesterday morning when we were looking for the ring," she said in a low tone, glancing at him slowly, "it's really true?"

He nodded, watching her frown.

"Well, you're not, like," she said, shoving her hands in her black pants pockets, shrugging, "like a Grim Reaper or something, are you, Renji?"

It took him a moment to remember what the entity from folklore was, and then he chuckled, only to stop when the effort made his side hurt. "Not quite."

"Good." She nodded, hesitant about her next question. "No one's going to die, are they? I mean, Inoue isn't, is she?"

"No, nothing like that," he said, grinning.

"Good," she said, smiling a little. "Well, I'll see you later." She glanced back at her brother, who was watching them from the car. "Make sure you rest up."

"I'll do that."

"Bye."

"Bye."

He watched her join her brother in the front seat of the car, and waved as they pulled out back onto the street. He looked to the back screen door of the house as Orihime appeared there.

"Leah dropped off our clothes," she told him. "Did she find you?"

Renji nodded. "I saw her."

* * *

By nightfall the rain had started again, but this time it was a mere sprinkle, just enough to make them shut the windows on the north side of the house. Supper had been of Pizza Bucket pizza -- with raisins -- and milkshakes that Orihime had created. Renji found himself moving from sofa to the kitchen table and back in an effort to find a more comfortable spot that didn't tax his ribs, and finally resorted to slouching in the corner of the couch, half asleep as the second part of the movie _Gone with the Wind_ started on the television.

He didn't care to watch the lengthy film. The front and kitchen doors were locked, the lamp lights low in the living room, the katana leaned against his side of the sofa. He rested his elbow on the sofa arm and set his temple in his hand, closing his eyes, trying to become oblivious to the muted conversation at the love seat where Orihime and Ishida were diagnosing the fashion designs of the crinoline era of dress portrayed in the movie. Orihime had finally overcome her hesitancy of sitting around in her robe and pajamas from the night before. She was well-covered, as long as she kept the robe tied shut, and he figured the Quincy was getting more than he bargained for by coming to America. This time she'd just taken a quick shower instead of her usual bubble bath, so as not to miss too much of the movie, but she still smelled of _something_. Renji wasn't sure what. Something floral. Ishida had done his best not to notice.

The whole movie had been talk of petticoats and hoops, of pre-antebellum plantations and Yankees, and not a battle in sight, which Renji thought odd, considering it was a war movie. He had just dropped off to sleep and awoke to his own snoring when a commercial interrupted the momentous fog scene onscreen.

"That's so sad," Orihime said to Ishida. "Melanie was so nice. Poor Ashley. Now he'll be lost, and Scarlett realizes she never really loved him anyway."

Renji looked sharply at her in the lamp's low light. Ishida was nodding, her hand grasped in his, looking strangely comfortable with the arrangement. Renji considered going on up to bed, but obligation outweighed his sense of propriety. After all, _he_ was the one protecting Orihime Inoue, not the Quincy. They didn't seem to be too aware of him anyway, he decided.

Orihime watched the movie return, remaining silent through to the end, sighing as Scarlett stood hopeful, watching Rhett Butler disappear into the fog as the movie closed to a black screen. She looked to Ishida. "She was a fool."

He nodded. "It's not a true story, Orihime."

She nodded. "Do you want ice cream?"

Ishida wasn't prepared for another sundae, but consented anyway. She looked to Renji, who was already sleeping again.

"We'll let Renji sleep, do you think?" she asked Ishida.

"What?" Renji asked, opening his eyes quickly.

"Do you want ice cream?" Ishida asked as he and Orihime stood up.

"No. Thanks." Renji propped his head on his palm again, attention going to the news broadcast coming on the channel after the movie. He frowned at the clock on the wall. _Shit, was it eleven o'clock already?_ he thought. _What a long movie._

Orihime switched on the light over the sink in the kitchen and brought out a carton of vanilla ice cream from the freezer. "What kind of toppings do you want?"

Ishida looked at the ice cream and then to her as she stood at the refrigerator. "Oh, no toppings, Orihime. Plain is fine."

"Are you sure? It's no trouble." Her hand paused on the refrigerator door handle.

"I'm sure."

"Okay." She found two bowls in the overhead cupboard they usually reserved for rice, and then took the ice cream scooper from a drawer. "You know, those dresses Scarlett wore would impress the crafts club at school. Do you think we could make one for the next competition?"

Ishida's eyes opened wider at the mention. "Of course we could. We'd get high points for technique and foreign concept at the next competition. A historical piece with foreign concept," he said, returning her smile. "It would be hard to beat a score like that, Orihime."

She nodded, scooping out ice cream into the bowls. "Would you want to make an exact replica or just follow the styles we saw in the movie?"

"Hmm. What do you think? Either way you could work in your exemplary needlework. No one could beat us at regionals with a design like that."

She nodded, setting one of the bowls before him. "A big hoop skirt, with lots of little bows and ruffles, and the tiny little waist -- oh, it's so Western!"

Visions of first place standings filled their heads as they discussed patterns and fabrics, lacework and trimmings. By the time they finished, it was nearly midnight, and they'd sketched several ideas -- complete with fabric choices and historical notes -- on a pad of paper.

Orihime nodded at the sketches with satisfaction. "I think we should do it." She collected the ice cream bowls and put them in the sink. "Do you think we can get the rest of the club to go along with the idea?"

Ishida nodded slowly. "I think so. We'll have to have a fundraiser to get enough money for supplies. It's going to take a lot of fabric and trim."

"Ooh, we could sell rice balls at the Summer Fair. That would be fun." She shut off the light and they made their way out of the kitchen, pausing to glance at Renji still sleeping on the sofa, the television playing a baseball game lowly. "Do you think we should wake him up?"

He shook his head, looking to her fingers hooked over his arm. "Maybe sleeping sitting up is easier for him."

"Maybe."

He walked her down the darkened hall to where the back bedroom met the staircase by the bathroom, conscious of her hand on his arm, trying to summon his flagging resolve. She stopped at the stairs and looked to him, her eyes seeming darker and larger in the poor light.

"I know the perfect shop to get the material," he said needlessly. "We can decide on the exact colors then."

"Okay." She nodded, her fingers tensing on his arm, and then suddenly withdrawing. "Well, goodnight, Uryû."

He cleared his throat. "Goodnight, Orihime."

She glanced down the hall to where Renji was out of sight in the living room, snoring lowly. "Do you have enough blankets?"

"Oh, yes. You took care of everything. Thank you."

She nodded, putting one hand to the stair banister behind her. "Well, goodnight."

"I, uh, I've been meaning to ask you," he said haltingly, pushing his glasses farther onto the bridge of his nose, "about ... well, a few things."

"Yes?"

"Well ..." His looked down at her face close to his, his fingertips catching hers lightly. He leaned closer and kissed her lips, pressing gently as she moved closer, her fingers bending over his. When they parted, she lingered for a moment, smiling as he grinned, the dark hall hiding a shared blush.

"Oh," she said. "Well..." She slowly put one foot on the stair.

"Well, goodnight, Orihime."

She paused, looking back at him. She smiled, stood on tiptoe, touching her lips to his again in a quick, forceful kiss that made him step back a pace. His arms came around her instinctively, kissing her back, the smell of sunflowers pervading her, and then she slipped away back to the staircase.

"Goodnight, Uryû," she said softly, a breathless giggle in her voice.

He watched her turn and go up the stairs, himself a little dazed, but happy. He grinned as she disappeared, and then went into his own room.


	26. Last Light

The next morning dawned foggy and damp, but by the time Renji had finished cursing his bruised and busted ribs, the sun was making a determined attempt to shine through. It still hurt to raise his arms, but he wasn't about to let another hair-tie beat him, and managed both that and the black bandana before joining Orihime in the kitchen.

He looked from the coffee pot that was making hot water to the rice cooker, to her, where she leaned against the counter, already dressed in the yellow and pink skirt and a peach blouse.

Which nearly matched the shade of blush on her cheeks, he noticed. He looked closer at her as she pushed a coffee mug to him on the counter. "Are you feeling all right, Orihime? Your cheeks are ...rosy."

She put both hands to her face, her eyes widening at him. "I'm not sick, Renji. I'm fine." She turned to the refrigerator, opening the door and looking in. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." He frowned at her, and then looked to Ishida as the Quincy appeared in the kitchen doorway. The color came up quickly in his face, and Renji glanced back to Orihime, raising an eyebrow.

"Good morning, Orihime," Ishida said, a grin surfacing as she looked to him.

"Oh, good morning, Uryû. Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, yes, very."

They both looked to Renji as he paused at the counter, one hand on the carafe of hot water, the other on the coffee mug. He watched the look pass between them, a mixture of bashfulness and secretive commonality, and decided something had transpired. He looked back to the coffee pot, grinning. "How'd the movie end?"

"What?" they both asked.

Renji poured hot water into the coffee cup and dropped a teabag into it, enjoying their momentary discomfort. "Who won, in the movie?"

"Oh, the North," Ishida said, his attention on Orihime, who was still paused at the refrigerator.

"It wasn't much of a war movie," Renji said, looking to each of them.

"Oh, no. Not really." Orihime forced a smile, looking out the kitchen window where the sky was visible between the basil plants. "Maybe it will be sunny today."

"Maybe." Renji sighed, grunting at the movement, one hand at his side. "I'm going outside to look around," he said as a silence developed in the room.

"Okay. The rice will be done soon," Orihime said cheerfully.

He nodded and went out the back door. In the east the sun was burning off the fog at a steady pace, vying with the moisture ridden atmosphere for airspace. He could hear Milk Dud whining at the neighbor's house, scratching at the back door to be let out.

Renji went into the garage and slipped the ring onto his right hand, and then made his usual rounds of the yard. He alighted to the house's roof, his breathing freer in shinigami form, the tenderness at his shoulder absent. In the next yard over, the elderly woman was opening the back door for Milk Dud, who made a beeline for the laundry pole and lifted a leg. At Raider's house was a patrol car, this one a tan and brown sheriff's deputy squad car. No officers were in sight. He wondered how many more were going to parade through the house before the authorities decided they had enough information on Raider.

Renji's communicator beeped and he reached for it in his robes. He looked to Hitsugaya's code on the screen before answering it.

"Yes, Captain."

"_How's everything going there, Vice-Captain?"_ Hitsugaya asked, his tone its usual crispness.

"Fine. We had an incident last week, but it's all under control."

"_Oh? How is Orihime?"_

Renji made a sour face. "She's fine, Captain."

"_Well, you can put it in a report. You're to leave for Japan tonight."_

Renji stood stock still on the house's rooftop, staring into Raider's backyard without seeing it. "Tonight?"

"_Yes. Your assignment is over. Escort Orihime home to Karakura Town, and then report back to Soul Society. Is Ishida still with you?"_

"Yes, Captain." Renji frowned, concentrating on the call. "Is everyone being recalled?"

"_Yes. Everyone. Your flight is for ten-fifty tonight, out of Detroit Metro. There's a ticket for Ishida, too."_

"We'll be on it."

They spoke for a few more moments, and then Renji pocketed the communicator, looking at the sheriff's car in the next yard. It was over.

Five minutes later, stillness had engulfed the kitchen after Renji told Orihime the news. She sat at the table with Ishida, a blank look on her face as she stared at him, a pout pulling at her lips. Then she glanced to Renji standing at the sink, the mug of tea in his hand.

"But I can still go to school today, can't I?"

Renji shrugged carefully. "Do you want to?"

She looked back to Ishida. "I want to say goodbye to my friends. Can I?"

Renji nodded, seeing Ishida's expression turn crestfallen. "Sure. We don't leave until tonight."

* * *

Orihime spent the day repeating her newly fabricated story of having to leave early in order to catch the end of the next break in her school year in Osaka, Japan, before the hiatus was over. A few of her teachers were confused, a few nodding suspiciously but saying nothing of it, a few looking at the note she'd brought from Renji, bearing signatures from Matsumoto posing as Mrs. Smith and Yamahita Maasa, coordinator of the United Youth Exchange Program from Japan. It was enough to confuse or persuade both the teachers and the office personnel.

"But I was going to ask you out to the dance next week," Scott said, hovering over her as she cleaned out her locker at the end of the school day. He frowned at her. "You didn't even give me a chance."

Orihime looked up at him, blinking. "Oh, well, that was nice of you to think of me."

Leah stood nearby, clutching her book bag, giving him a dirty look. "She's got a boyfriend, Scott. You're out of your league, anyway."

"You do?" Scott asked Orihime.

"Oh, well..." she looked to Leah, blushing, holding her books closer to her chest. "I won't be here next week. It was nice to meet you, Scott."

"Yeah. See you, Inoue."

Orihime and Leah waded through the mass of students to the sidewalk outside, collecting Meg and Danielle as they went.

"I thought you'd be here the rest of the school year," Danielle bemoaned as they passed through the entrance doors. "Maybe part of the summer."

"Yeah," Meg said, crowding closer to the Japanese girl. "It's so sudden."

Orihime nodded as they followed the sidewalk to the street, stepping over the puddles of water that had formed in the low spots. "Japanese schools have a different year. All year. I don't want to fall behind."

Meg looked hurt. "I'm not ready for you to go yet, Inoue. I thought you could show us how to make egg rolls."

Orihime giggled as Danielle gave Meg a friendly shove. "Those are Chinese, you dolt."

"Oh."

Leah looked on as Meg and Danielle gave Orihime a bone-crunching hug when they paused on the sunny sidewalk amid the student traffic near the street.

"You promise to email me?" Meg asked.

Orihime nodded.

Danielle asked glanced from her to where Renji and Ishida were waiting across the street by the usual tree and back again. "You have my address?"

"Uh-huh." Orihime sighed as she looked from Danielle to Meg. "Well, goodbye. Have a good year!"

Orihime and Leah parted Meg and Danielle's company as the latter two girls headed to the street leading to the junior high school beyond the buses. Orihime tried not to sulk.

"I didn't think it would be so soon," Leah said for the fourth time that day, watching the Japanese girl. "I didn't realize it would just pop up like this. Is it safe for you to go home?"

Orihime nodded as they crossed the street. "Renji got the call this morning."

Leah looked to Renji and Ishida as they waited. "Uryû is going home with you?"

"Yes." Orihime smiled, a slight pink hinting her cheeks as she looked to Ishida's anxious stance as she approached. "Soul Society is even paying for his airfare."

"Soul...Society?" Leah repeated, slowing as they crossed to the opposite side of the street.

Orihime looked to her. "Renji said he told you about it."

"Oh, uh, he didn't mention that part." She returned Renji's attention as they neared. "Is that where he's from?"

"Uh-huh." Orihime's smile broadened as she met Ishida. "Hi."

He grinned at her. "How was school?"

She nodded, then looked to Leah. "Do you work today?"

Leah nodded and fell into step beside her as they moved down the crowded sidewalk.

"Did you say your goodbyes?" Renji asked Orihime.

"Yup." She hitched her book bag over her shoulder higher.

Leah saw Ishida's hand brushed against Orihime's at his side, and looked to the girl's sheepish smile. She glanced back at Renji behind them, her eyes going from his to his shoulder. "Is she going to be all right now?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

She looked to Orihime and Ishida and dropped back a step to Renji. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, looking to the tie-dye shirt she carried. "You work at the restaurant this afternoon?"

She nodded, watching Orihime and Ishida walking only inches apart in front of them. "You shouldn't fly with broken ribs, Renji."

He shrugged slowly. "Time's come to leave." They reached the end of the sidewalk where it turned into town. The crossing-guard held the stop sign up to them, waiting for the Brooklyn-Pierport Street traffic to halt as the light changed to red.

Orihime turned back to Leah, a small smile on her face. "I'm glad I met you," she said, then brightened. "You can have the basil plants. Renji said I can't take them with us, but I don't want them to die off. I'll leave them on the back porch, okay?"

"Sure." Leah smiled back at her, then pulled her close and hugged her tight. "Be careful, Inoue. Write to me, if you can."

Orihime nodded, then separated from the taller American girl. "I will."

Leah looked to Ishida. "It was nice to meet you, Uryû."

He bowed slightly. "You, too, Leah."

The crossing-guard waved to the huddle of students that had gathered at the sidewalk corner. "Okay, you can cross now!"

Renji watched Leah pull at the book bag strap at her shoulder. "Bye."

She nodded, taking a step backward down the sidewalk behind her, pushing a strand of dark hair out of her face. "Bye, Renji." She half smiled, tossing a wave as Orihime raised a hand to her.

Renji, Orihime, and Ishida crossed the street with the rest of the students, and then crossed the side street to intercept the sidewalk opposite. Some of the students meandered to the side street walks, others jogging to catch up with friends ahead on the sidewalk. Renji saw Ishida reach for Orihime's hand as they moved along the walk. _The Quincy certainly made good use of his time,_ he thought, watching her smile.

He turned and glanced back to Leah across the street, seeing her move down the opposite way, her hair loose trailing along her back, the blue hair-tie in one hand. Her steps slowed, and she turned to look his way. He returned her brief wave, and then followed after Orihime and Ishida.

* * *

Within an hour Renji had packed his belongings back into the suitcase in the bedroom. Orihime had emptied the newly dried laundry from the machines in the basement, meticulously folding his clothes as always, despite his insisting that she just leave them in the basket for him.

He rolled his shirts and stuck them in the bag, the usual embarrassment washing over him when he thought of her handling his clothes, but she was adamant about the laundry duty. He stuffed the rest of his clothes in the bag, wrestling with the heavy duty zipper until it was sufficiently closed. He went down the hall to where Orihime was in the rose-colored room still packing. She stood at the bedside, pausing as she looked around the room.

"Got everything?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe with his good shoulder.

She nodded, sighing. "I thought we'd have more notice."

"Yeah, well, Captain Hitsugaya said everyone is going home now." He watched her zip the suitcase shut. "You do want to go home, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

"Tatsuki is going home."

She nodded. "I kind of got used to it here," she said in a low tone. "Thanks for taking care of me, Renji."

He sighed, resisting a shrug. "I'm sorry that Karl guy got so close."

"Thanks."

He was tempted to say something about her other friends from Karakura Town missing her, but figured it might undermine Ishida's progress as of late. "Well, make sure you've got everything. We're leaving in two hours."

She nodded, smiling at him. "I'll be ready."

He nodded and went outside to see to the truck's damaged door. It took half an hour to make the hinges functional enough to use and twenty minutes to get the door to stay closed -- when locked from the inside -- and he decided a door that wouldn't open was better than a door that wouldn't stay shut.

He sorted through the thoughts running around in his mind as he walked to the front of the truck to look at the headlights. Something felt amiss, as it had all day, but seemed to be magnified now. He wasn't sure if it was the abrupt recall to take Orihime home, or the dread of driving for two hours to the airport. Or something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Something incomplete.

He looked at the passenger side headlight, seeing its cockeyed tilt that would put the beam center of the truck instead of straight. Well, he could live with that. It would be nearly dark when they left, and completely night by the time they got to Detroit. He sighed, muttering a curse at the stifling pressure at his side and chest. The cross-eyed headlight wasn't enough to fix.

Ishida came out the back door of the house as Renji stood at the passenger side front wheel well, estimating the dent that folded the metal into the tire.

Ishida put two bags in the truck bed. "She's almost done. She wants to know what you'd like for supper."

Renji shook his head. "Whatever she feels like fixing. Anything will do."

Ishida looked around the yard. "We just leave? Don't you have to notify someone?"

Renji walked around the truck to see the dent in the driver's side bed from fishtailing into the small tree that rainy night as they'd followed the Mercedes. "No. The house is leased for six months. The rent will run out; it won't matter after that." He decided the slight bend in the bed between the wheel well and door was insignificant. "We just put the garbage out. That's it." He went back to the passenger side front tire.

Ishida joined him there, frowning at the dent. "Should we pull that out more?"

"I don't think so. If it rubs, we'll stop somewhere and deal with it then."

Ishida nodded. "Why are you being called back so suddenly?"

Renji almost shrugged, but thought better of it. "It's time to go back. We didn't know how long we were going to be here. Captain Hitsugaya didn't give too many details this morning."

The back door opened and Orihime poked her head out, looking to them. "We could use up the rest of the hot dogs," she called to them.

"That's fine," Renji told her, seeing her flash Ishida a smile before ducking back into the house. He put one hand to the truck fender, drumming his fingers on the blue metal as he looked at the dent. "I'm going to look over the area before we go."

"Oh?" Ishida grinned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Some _area_ in town?"

Renji scowled at him. "I'll be back in five minutes. Don't let Orihime out of your sight."

Ishida shook his head and rounded the front of the truck as he headed to the house. "I don't plan to."

* * *

Renji entered the alley behind the restaurant as early dusk settled over the town. He saw Leah sitting on the back staircase entrance to the banquet room on the second floor. She looked his way as he approached down the alley, standing when he stopped a few yards away.

He wished he hadn't made the trip. It was foolish to think a goodbye was necessary. Orihime had said her farewell, and that was it, he knew, but he thought a thanks was in order. _She had helped,_ he thought, justifying his presence.

She tilted her head at him, frowning a little. "You know I can see you, right?"

He nodded, grinning. "Yeah, I know it." He glanced to the screen door of the restaurant where the upbeat tune _We Got the Funk_ was jolting out. "On break?"

She nodded. "We're busy tonight. They've got a booking for the banquet room." She looked up at the staircase, and then down the alley behind him. "Is Inoue with you?"

"No. She's finishing up the packing up with Ishida." He stuck his hands deeper in his jean pockets. "I just wanted to say thanks for helping her. Us. I appreciate it."

"Oh, hey, no problem." She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "She's nice. I hope she'll be okay."

He nodded, closing the short distance between them, looking at the restaurant door again when a male voice from inside called out, "Leah?"

"I'm on break, Ray," she called back.

Ray's bulky form appeared in the doorway, filling it, looking from her to Renji, and then he disappeared farther into the building.

"Head chef," she explained to Renji.

He nodded. "Are you late?"

"No. He's just needy. They still haven't gotten a replacement dishwasher."

He watched her for a moment, attention falling to where her fingers played with the fringe at the bottom of her tie-dye shirt, unsure why seeing her was becoming so awkward. He looked back to her eyes. "You smell like pineapple."

She smiled. "I've been coring them for an hour. Fruit salad."

He nodded. "Well," he said, sighing, resisting a grimace at the movement, "we're leaving. Thanks for everything."

She nodded, looking inquiringly to him. "Will you come back? I mean," she added hastily, blushing faintly, "will she have to hide out again?"

"I don't know. Not here."

He stepped closer and leaned down, kissing her lips lightly. She responded belatedly, hesitantly. He kissed her more fully, slipping his arms around her waist, feeling the fingers on one hand clutch the front of his t-shirt, the other hand slowly sliding around his waist -- the uninjured side. She smelled of pineapple and some other deft fragrance he couldn't identify.

He watched her eyes rise to his, appearing no distinct color in the darkening alley.

"I wish you'd done that a few weeks ago," she said quietly, her hand on his shirt carefully avoiding his bandaged ribs.

"I should have. Take care of yourself, Leah," he said, but didn't move away. He looked to her hair now in a ponytail, tempted to pull it free, just for a few moments.

She nodded, her fingertips pressing into his shoulder blade. "You, too. And her."

He nodded and released her. "Goodbye."

Her arms dropped as he stepped away, her fingers nervously moving to the front pockets of her pants as she smiled at his grin. "Goodbye."

* * *

By the time Renji, Orihime, and Ishida left Brooklyn it was dark too early, the air warm and muggy, skies heavily clouded, threatening to rain more than the mist that was now descending. Renji had had enough of rain, and he didn't want any more. So far, according to the newspapers and radio, no one had found the body in the muddy field, and it looked like they were going to escape Brooklyn before it was noticed. He liked the idea of that.

Orihime gave the green and purple basil plants on the back porch a final glance, sighing. Beside her Ishida had rolled the window down halfway, as far as it would go with the damaged door without making resistant noises. Renji backed the truck out onto Brooklyn-Pierport Street, and they headed into town.

The traffic was sparse for a Monday, most of it moving westbound from the hub of Ann Arbor and Detroit into the outlying rural areas. The truck turned onto the eastbound road that would evolve into the main highway at the outskirts of town. They passed the few businesses, the lights over the Manic Groove's sign showcasing the restaurant's blue and yellow lettering.

"I hope Leah remembers the basil plants," Orihime said.

Ishida nodded. "She will."

She looked behind them at the town's main intersection as the traffic lights changed. "Goodbye, Brooklyn."

Renji glanced in the rearview mirror, past Orihime's head as she turned back around, limiting part of his view into the truck bed, seeing their belongings nestled close to the cab. He hoped it wouldn't rain. It didn't matter too much if the bags got wet, but he didn't want any problems with the airport about wet luggage. Airport personnel found alarm with the oddest issues, and he wanted no problems. He saw the katana case, more of a bag than anything, slotted between the back wheel well hump and his bags. He was to leave it in the truck at the airport parking lot. No arrangements had been made in advance for it on the return flight to Japan, and Hitsugaya had made it clear it could remain with the abandoned truck.

Orihime looked to him in the darkened cab. "Did you remember your tablets?" she asked.

"Yeah."

Orihime said, sighing. "It'll be nice to see Tatsuki again."

Renji glanced to where Ishida sat at the passenger door. The Quincy's face appeared a little troubled in the dim light of the cab. "We've got a two hour drive. You two sure you got everything from the house?"

"Uh-huh," Orihime said.

They left town and traveled down the nearly vacant highway that was surrounded by cropland and copses of trees that clumped, dividing fields, most running along side roads of dirt or gravel. It grew quiet in the cab, and Renji switched on the radio to the local county station. The weather forecast came over the speakers.

The interior was highlighted by headlights from the car behind them. Ishida glanced back at it after a few moments, frowning. "I think they've got their high beam lights on."

Renji looked to the rearview mirror, and then to the sides of the highway that had become short patches of woods lining darkened fields. "It looks like it could rain."

Ishida pointed to a side road that veered off from the highway. "That's the road we followed the Mercedes man down." He cocked his head to see it as they passed, uncertain. "I think."

Orihime settled back into the seat at the mention, sighing shakily.

"Oh, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories," he told her gently, turning to her. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She smiled back at him, then looked to her left wrist where the two bracelets were. "Renji, when can I take the bangle off?"

His eyes were on the rearview mirror, frowning at the car behind them as the bright headlights lit the cab sporadically as they rode over dips in the road. "When we get to the airport. It has to come off and be dismantled before we go through the metal detector."

She turned the metal on her wrist, her fingers pausing on the blue beaded bracelet Ishida had given her. "Should we do that now?"

"Nope. Not until we get to the airport." Renji glared at the mirror, one hand on the key of the chain at his neck. "I don't know if this guy's rude or ignorant." Suddenly a second spotlight shone into the truck, joined by a flashing red light from the car behind. "Shit, it's a cop." He gripped the steering wheel, looking to the shoulder of the road.

"You're supposed to pull over," Ishida said, watching the side of the road that was absent of mailboxes beside a field.

"I know; I am." Renji slowed the truck and maneuvered it onto a secondary dirt road that was lined with trees. The police car behind them followed, stopping when they did.

"Do you have all your paperwork?" Ishida asked.

"Yes." Renji looked at the side view mirror as the door opened in the car behind them. "Dammit. What could be wrong? I wasn't speeding."

Orihime turned to look behind them, the spotlight hitting her square in the face, the red light washing over her features. She sat forward again. "I wonder what kind of policeman it is. Maybe he's from Raider's house. Maybe he has questions for us."

"We don't know anything about Raider," Renji muttered, hands on the steering wheel, eyes narrowing at the rearview mirror. "We can't help."

He rolled down the window as a figure came toward the door. A flashlight shone into the cab. The beam caught him in the face, then moved to Ishida and then to Orihime.

"Good evening, gentlemen," a male tone said, the officer's face blocked by the light, revealing little more than a vague silhouette of uniform. "Evening, miss. Driver's license, registration, and proof of insurance, please."

"Okay." Renji sighed. He reached into his back jeans pocket for his wallet, seeing the officer's hand rest at his side at the belt, the light focused into the cab, briefly pausing on Renji's bandaged arm. He flipped open his wallet and pulled out the proofs.

The light went to Orihime. "How old are you, miss?"

"Fifteen," she stammered, looking back at the blinding light.

The officer trained the light back on Renji as he handed over the papers. "Are you with these gentlemen because you choose to be, miss?"

"Oh, yes," she said.

"I'm her legal guardian," Renji added, frowning at the officer.

He shone the flashlight on the papers, then back to Renji. "Do you have paperwork proving guardianship?"

"Yes."

"Where are we going this evening?"

"The airport." Renji's hands tightened on the steering wheel again, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to produce the documents Hitsugaya had provided for guardianship.

"So, Mr. Smith," the officer said slowly, the light going back to Orihime, "you're taking a minor to the airport."

"Yes."

"What's your name, miss?"

"Inoue Moriyama," Orihime said, her voice faltering. She felt Ishida's hand close over hers on the seat.

The light went back to Renji. "Shut off the engine and step out of the vehicle, Mr. Smith."

Renji groaned, but turned off the ignition and opened the door as the officer stepped back. He got out, looking to the man, and finally got a slightly better look at him in the moonlight. The flashlight angled back into the truck as Renji stood at the bed. The officer's hand rested at his side, but it wasn't on a gun holster as he had assumed.

"Miss, step out here, please," the officer said.

Renji frowned, considering the angle of the officer's right hand. "Stay in there, Orihime," he said in Japanese, trying to see the man better in the dim light of the moon.

There was a quick flick of movement from the man, and Renji felt the blade of a sword at his neck, etching into his skin as the metal caught the moonlight.

"I was told no guns," the officer said, his tone losing its professional qualities. "Which is just fine with me. Out of the truck, Orihime Inoue!"

"Stay in there!" Renji reached into the truck bed and grabbed the katana, shucking off the case as the sword at his neck bit deeper. "Ishida, get her out of here!"

The officer put one hand to the door, but didn't have time to open it. Renji's katana knocked the man's sword from his neck, and then beat him back a few steps as Ishida pulled Orihime across him and slid behind the steering wheel. The tuck started, then lurched into reverse, stopping when it hit the squad car, eclipsing the headlights with the bumper.

Renji beat the man back farther into the dirt road, his shoulder rebelling at every movement. The headlights of the truck illuminated the officer, and he realized it was the man who'd drove the unmarked police car from Raider's house the last few days. He was leaner now, minus the bulky bulletproof vest, his movements practiced and calculated as he met every slash of the katana.

"You can walk away from this, Abarai," he said, the sword lowered at his side, stepping across the road.

Behind him, Ishida accidentally found park with the gear shifter. He restarted the already running engine, making the starter squeal in protest. The engine revved higher in park.

"Hand over the girl," the officer said, moving to the middle of the road where more moonlight fell through the trees. "That's all I want."

"Not going to happen," Renji told him, clenching his teeth against the throbbing pain at his side. "Swords are fine with me, too."

The man launched into an attack that sent Renji into a defensive mode, backing to the trees lining the dirt road. He dodged an exceptionally swift swipe, hearing it slice two small young trees in half. He lifted the katana in time to partially block a blow that half landed on the gunshot wound at his shoulder. Renji grit his teeth and brought the katana across the man's chest, catching the gray-blue uniform shirt, leaving a diagonal cut from pocket to abdomen.

The man winced at the cut, backing up a step, one hand going to his chest. With renewed vigor he loosed a series of slashes at Renji, one landing obliquely flat on his injured ribs, bringing a muted gasp from the shinigami. He caught the officer's sword midair at the next attack, then leaned into the stalemate, and threw him back, taking the fleeting second of lowered guard to thrust the blade into the uniformed waist.

The mock officer coughed, posture hunching forward, his sword hand dropping, the other hand fumbling on the blade embedded below his ribs. He sank to his knees in the dirt road as Ishida managed forward with the truck and the headlights passed over him.

Renji jerked the sword blade out of the dying man, watching him fall to his side in the dirt and mud. In the headlights he could see the dull metal band on the man's wrist and what looked to be more of a security guard's uniform than a legitimate policeman. Renji put one hand to his ribs, thankful the adrenalin had muted the pain ebbing through the broken bones. He looked to the truck as it jerked into park suddenly and the driver's door opened. Ishida stepped in front of the headlights.

"Is he dead?" the Quincy asked, waving a hand behind him as Orihime stepped out.

"Yeah." Renji used the tip of the blade to move the man's head, watching his last breath bring a moan from him. He glanced to Ishida. "You don't know how to drive, do you?"

Ishida's tone held a frown. "I've never learned."

Orihime joined them, stopping at Ishida's side, her eyes going from the dead man to Renji. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, straightening, breathing carefully at his newly damaged injuries while trying to catch his breath. "Let's go."

They took a few moments to shut off the lights on the unmarked police car, which was devoid of siren and most of the equipment found in a genuine squad car, and turned off the ignition. Renji and Ishida both looked at the taser and roll of furnace tape in the passenger side of the car. Ishida ushered Orihime back to the truck as she tried to look into the squad car. Renji slammed the door shut.

"Let's get out of here," he said, nodding to Ishida as he and Orihime got into the truck's cab. He took a moment to lean against the truck's bent tailgate and lifted his t-shirt to look at the new swelling on his ribs in the moonlight, scowling at the timid trickle of blood that had surfaced. He fit the bandage over it better, thoughts of Leah, some of which weren't equated with medical attention -- an odd moment to recall her fingers soft on his side, tender movements across his flesh as she patched his broken skin -- surfacing in his mind. He regretted not pulling that blue hair-tie out of her ponytail, even for just a brief moment. He sighed, and rewrapped the bandage at his arm more securely where it was starting to darken from being reopened, and joined Orihime and Ishida in the truck cab.

"He was one of them?" she asked, looking anxiously to his arm.

"Yeah." He looked in the rearview mirror at the nick at his neck which had resulted in barely a mark of red.

"Do you want me to drive?" Ishida asked.

"No."

Renji took a moment to turn the truck around, holding his breath as he pulled at the steering wheel. The truck paused at the end of the dirt road, the dark car and body out of sight behind it near the edge of the road. There was no traffic, and Renji turned onto the highway, heading eastbound.

Orihime looked out the window at the road leading to town, watching the long strip of highway fall away. She turned and sat facing forward again, sighing and leaning against Ishida's arm as his hand took hers.

He looked at Renji intent on the road before them, and then down at her. "Now we can go home."

Renji glanced at both of them, and then back to the highway, trying to ignore the fresh pain at his side and arm. He was more than ready to go home. He'd had enough of being human.

* * *

**A/N: _Thanks to everyone who read this story! Thank you to all reviewers, too, especially Rachillion, Mitsukistar, RemyO, TiffaValentine99, Brighit de Romanus, Presca, FrozenWhiteWings, x pink cloud x, Vi, 2stupid, L0stL0ve, Sin Piedad, Anne Camp aka Obi-quiet, Black and Red Queen, Thunderstorm 101, Sailor Cherry Cream, purpleshinigami, war90, DRAGONLILIES, Samebito Ryu, darthgamer, PachuaSunrise, bloodyrose1294, Vi-Violence, Lauren, jaguar003, NeeChan, WatermelonPrincess, Slayspawn, Autemu'sLotus, ColdPersianFusion, MsMandi, Jinn Nozomi, Chancel, Sam Junno, and Banshee-san!_**


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